


Bound and Determined

by grey853



Series: Consent [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sex, Incest, M/M, Psychological Torture, Rape Recovery, Sexual Slavery, child molestation, explicit violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the sequel to "Consent". Mulder tries to recover from being raped and to get on with his life with Walter Skinner, but along come extreme complications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound and Determined

**Author's Note:**

> Lines in _italics_ indicate internal point of view.

Title: Bound and Determined  
Author: Grey  
Email: [Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com)  
Rating: NC-17 for explicit m/m sex and violence  
Category: SA  
Spoilers: None to speak of  
KeyWords: Mulder/Skinner Slash, Rape, Krycek 

Summary: This is the sequel to "Consent". Mulder tries to recover from being raped and to get on with his life with Walter Skinner, but along come complications. 

Disclaimer: These characters belong to CC, but I'm borrowing them. CC is a hell of a lot nicer than I am. 

ARCHIVE: YES to MSSS/ MulderTorture/ and any other place where "Consent" is also Archived. 

WEBSITE: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net>

Author's Note: Lines in _italics_ are internal thoughts not spoken by the character. 

WARNING: This story deals with disturbing content. It deals with incest, child molestation, rape, sexual slavery, and the aftermath such brutality fosters. This is a dark tale stemming from a darker reality. If any of that bothers you past reason and control, DON'T READ THIS STORY. Sadly, I never have to make anything up. I just read the papers and the pieces are there to be stitched together, pain the thread that binds each victim, misery the fabric of their souls. 

* * *

**Bound and Determined**  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Bound%20and%20Determined)

* * *

Federal Building Wednesday 10:30 AM 

"Mulder, what the hell are you doing here?" 

"I work here, Scully. It hasn't been that long has it?" Mulder stood behind his desk, holding a contraband folder, scanning and studying the pages as quickly as he could. 

Dana Scully walked over and snatched it from his hands. She put it back on her desk, and then stationed herself right beside him before she spoke. "You've only been out of the hospital two weeks, Mulder. You're on medical leave for godsakes. You shouldn't even be out running around yet, much less coming into work. Does Skinner know you're here?" 

"He's not my keeper, Scully." His voice dripped petulance. 

"Mulder, he's your boss, plus he cares about what happens to you. I thought you two came to some kind of understanding." 

"Yeah, his. I'm not going to talk about him right now, okay?" 

"Okay." She didn't mention how upset she knew Skinner would be when he found out what Mulder was up to in the basement. Scully knew better than to push. 

Turning away, not wanting to even deal with his personal relationship with the boss, Mulder walked over to his partner's desk. The file beckoned him. He licked his lips. "Come on, Scully, just let me have a peek at that one file." 

"No, Mulder." 

"Just one itty bitty peek and I'll go home." 

"Mulder, one peek is all you need with eidetic memory. How many pages do you already have memorized?" 

Grinning like a child caught with the neighbor's spoiled birthday cake, Mulder lifted his hands. "Busted, huh? Actually, I only need to see the last two pages." 

She shook her head both in frustration and relief. He sounded almost back to normal, at least what passed for normal for Mulder. Despite the weight loss, he certainly looked better than he had a few weeks ago right after the assault. The physical bruises and scars no longer made an obvious appearance. But as a doctor, she knew that the worst wounds were hidden from the start. Mulder certainly did a great tap dance and put on a convincing show. Now, if he could only slow down and learn to get real, he might even be able to end up surviving. 

"I'm telling you, Mulder, if Skinner finds out you're here, we're both going to be in trouble." 

"Come on, Scully, how's he going to know? I came in the back way." 

A husky, full-throated voice boomed in the doorway. "I'd think as a federal agent you'd realize there are cameras even in the back way, Agent Mulder." 

Everybody froze. Scully watched the two men lock eyes in the first step of a major power play. 

"Mulder, you're on your own here. Sir, if you'll excuse me, I'll let you two work this out." 

"Agent Scully, in the future I expect you to call immediately if your partner shows up and tries to be an ass." 

Smiling slightly, both at Mulder's sudden pinkish hue and her boss's new approach to the language of discipline, she shook her head. "Sir, with all due respect, I don't think I could stay on the phone that long. Neither one of us would get any work done." 

"Point taken." Skinner found he liked Scully more and more. No wonder Mulder loved her so much. 

"Hey, you two, it's not fair to gang up on a guy." 

"Then don't give us a reason, Mulder." Scully moved past Skinner in the door way, but then came right back. She snatched up the tempting file on her desk, registered Mulder's disappointment, and tucked it under her arm. "Sir, if you need back up, I'll be down in forensics." 

"Thanks, Agent Scully." 

As soon as she left, Skinner moved inside the room and shut the door. Mulder stood studying his shoes with a hell of a lot more interest than they deserved. "Okay, you want to tell me what you're playing at here?" 

"How did you know I was in the building so fast?" 

"I'm the Assistant Director, Mulder. I know things." 

"Yeah? Well, I'll bet you ordered Randy to call if I showed up. Am I right?" 

"Bribed is more like." Skinner shrugged, but didn't feel the least bit guilty. 

"I can't believe you're keeping tabs on me like that. Where's the trust?" 

Walter looked at Mulder and gave a short laugh. "Trust? You're standing here after I told you specifically not to be. It's hard to trust you when you do things like this." 

"I never promised I wouldn't come in." 

"No, but you knew you weren't supposed to and you did it anyway. You did it using subterfuge and now you're trying to make me feel guilty for catching you at it." 

"Damn, you're good." Mulder let himself smile just a small smile. 

"That's why I'm the boss. Now, tell me why you're here." 

Satisfied that Walter was more concerned, than angry, Mulder settled into a rhythmic pace, stepping back and forth in the cramped space. His energy spiked and made his skin itchy. He needed to move, stay busy. 

_Monsters can't bite your ass when you keep moving._

"I just wanted something to do. I told you last night I can't stand sitting around with nothing to do." 

"And I told you that you can't come back to work yet, not until Dr. Harris releases you. Besides, you should either be resting or catching up on some reading. You're still on medication for your kidneys. You should not be sneaking in the back way trying to see how far you can push this rebel business." 

Mulder lifted his head and snapped, "Fuck all this convalescence shit. I hate sitting on my ass doing nothing. I'm fine. I need to work, not waste my time waiting for Dr. Harris or anybody else to tell me what to do." 

"And that anybody else would be me, right?" Walter stepped closer, but not so close that he invaded personal space. He didn't need Mulder to bolt on him now. 

"I just get tired of all this shit. Why can't people just leave it alone and let me get on with my life?" 

"Maybe because we're afraid." 

"Afraid of what?" Honest confusion played across his face, his eyes softening after the burst of anger. 

"Afraid that you might get into a case so deep and not be able to get out. I mean, you've gone through a rough time. I don't want to risk losing you because you rushed back to work before you were ready." 

"But I feel ready, Walter." 

"Do you?" 

"Yes. I mean, sure, we both know that I'm going to have some rough patches, but, hell, that's nothing new. I just need to be working, not sitting around thinking all the time. 

_Too fucking dangerous to think all the time. Too many holes to fall into. Too many demons to feed._

Skinner took a deep breath before speaking. He wanted to select his words carefully, to make a point without slashing his own throat. "Mulder, last night you had a panic attack because you couldn't find a science fiction video." 

Mulder whirled around. "I did NOT have a fucking panic attack. I just got pissed. I mean I know I have THE THING on tape somewhere, both versions, Walter. It's like someone came in and moved all my stuff. I keep losing things and I hate that. It makes me wonder." 

"Wonder what?" 

"If it's safe." 

_Like it ever was for christsakes._

"Mulder, what are you talking about?" 

"Walter, someone came into my apartment. I mean, after I was attacked by Turner, he brought me back home. Now, I have no memory of that.....but I mean....I mean, it just pisses me off that he touched everything, you know. He just came in and moved stuff around. Did things. There's no telling what else is missing." 

_Part of me is missing. I'm fucking lost here._

Looking up, suddenly aware he'd said more than he meant to, he switched back to the original defense. "But I did NOT have a panic attack. That is such bullshit and there's no way you should use that against me." 

His chest ached knowing that Mulder still felt so unsafe, so violated. He wanted more than anything to change all that. Keeping his voice calm and very even, Skinner spoke softly. "Mulder, I'm not using that or anything else against you. I'm just pointing out that sometimes you get really upset. That's understandable, but you can't be on the job like that. You're not ready yet. There's too much risk. Given a little bit more time, you can learn to control yourself better." 

"I can control myself now." 

"Can you?" 

"Sure. I'm controlling a terrible desire to smack you in the jaw even as we speak." 

Startled, Skinner asked, "You want to hit me?" 

"Well, actually I've done that before, so I'd really rather kiss you. The thing is I've learned to control those impulses. See, I'm better, right?" 

Noting the lightning swift change of his moods, a slightly more flushed Skinner just shook his head. "Mulder, you can't go around saying stuff like that while we're at work." 

Looking only a little sheepish, Mulder sat down behind his desk and templed his fingers. 

_God, I love it when his eyes sparkle._

"I know, but I'm a rogue, don't you know. Besides, Scully's great about keeping up with her little bug sweep. You wouldn't believe the shit we say to each other. I guess that's part of what I miss." 

"Scully?" 

"Yeah. Jealous?" He glanced up, hopeful. 

"She's not your type, Mulder." 

"And you know my type?" 

"Intimately." 

"You know my hand that well, eh?" 

Skinner shook his head at the naughty remark and then frowned. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have started that." 

Mulder studied the man he'd allowed into his life, surprised at the embarrassed reaction. "Why not?" 

"A lot of reasons. Mainly because we're at work. Listen. You have to go home. Have your session with Harris later today and then I'll bring dinner and see you tonight. We'll talk then." 

"You're so damn bossy, Walter." 

"I know. Don't worry about it. You'll either get used to it or just keep on getting caught." 

"And if I get caught, what happens?" The tease in his voice made Skinner's muscles tighten, his groin to sit up and take notice. 

"Mulder, don't start that here. You're going home." 

"You know what, Walter?" 

"What?" 

"I'm beginning to like this game. You look pretty damn cute with a blush." 

* * *

Dr. Harris's Office, Wednesday 2 PM 

"Well, you certainly seem more energetic than yesterday. What's going on?" 

Mulder paced the confines of the office, repeatedly moving from chair to window, loose energy vibrating from every nerve. Sitting would bring on an immediate blast. "Same thing as yesterday. I'm bored out of my skull. When can I go back to work?" 

"Mulder, we've talked about that." 

"You mean you've talked and I've had to listen. Your arguments are shit. I need to work. Things will settle down when I'm on the job." 

"Things?" 

"You know what I mean." Mulder stopped behind the chair opposite of his psychiatrist and braced his arms against the back. He did a pre-running stretching move to help release the stinging energy burning though his muscles, building in up in his bones. 

"Dr. Boysen has me on antibiotics for a few more weeks to make sure the kidneys are okay, but frankly I'm feeling pretty good, no problems in that area." 

"No problems at all?" Harris watched the frenetic movements. He could see the air practically sparkle with extra charges. "Mulder, try sitting down for a minute." 

Mulder's head jerked up, his expression defiant . "I could if I wanted to, but I don't. I've been sitting around on my ass too long as it is." 

"Tell you what, Mulder. Sit for just five minutes without moving and I'll let you go back to work this very day." 

Anger and understanding reared behind the intense hazel eyes. "You don't think I can do it." It wasn't a question. 

"Prove me wrong and you'll have your ticket to what you want. Sounds like a good deal to me. Try it." 

An anxious hand ran through his dark hair, pushing the stubborn front strands back away from his face. He paced two more times and then sat down, his right leg bouncing, his hands digging into both thighs. 

"Try not moving at all." 

After a few more seconds Mulder came up out of the seat, stepping to the window, his long arms wrapped tightly around his chest. His tongue worked hard, running back and forth along the inside lower lip. Standing there, he shifted foot to foot, never still. Two full minutes passed before Harris asked, "Are you okay, Mulder?" 

"Obviously not, you son of a bitch." 

"Mulder, you're having an anxiety reaction, a post traumatic response to what's happened. You recognize it, but deny it. We have to work on that." 

"I like that we part, Doc. Makes me feel all cozy to know I'm part of a crowd of two." The pacing started again, chair to window and back. 

"So, did you do your list?" 

"No." His voice, still tight, swung the word like a slap. 

"Why not?" 

"Two reasons. One I told you before I hate behavior modification techniques and two it would've been a really short list." 

"So, you're saying you couldn't think of many things you like about yourself?" 

Frustrated to the point of exploding, Mulder breathed deeply to ward off another flash fire at the back of his thoughts. "Look, we're here to deal with recent events, not the long term. My self-esteem, or lack of it, isn't the issue. I just want to do what I have to so I can go back to doing my job." 

"Then why not work with me? I mean, if it's such a short list why couldn't you just go along and write it down? Why make an issue of it?" 

"Jesus, you're a stubborn bastard." 

"Considering my patient, don't you think I need to be?" 

Bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, arms still crossed, Mulder finally nodded. "Yeah, I guess. I just don't want to be patronized. I don't like lists. I really don't like writing about myself much." 

"I know that. Let's shelf the lists for awhile and just talk." 

"Okay. I can do that." Mulder stared out the window, longing desperately to be back in his basement office, back to Scully, back to Walter and what he knew. 

"So, have you thought anymore about starting medication?" 

"I told you before, I don't want to do that." 

"I know you don't want to take medication, Mulder, just like you don't want to be here right now. Even so, sometimes you have to do things you don't like for conditions to get better." 

Mulder turned and faced off, his arms crossed like steel bars around his chest, his feet still bouncing. "And what's going to get better? Sure, I can take some pills that are supposed to ease the depression or the anxiety, but it's still there. I'm the one who has to deal with it and I will. I always have. What pisses me off if this attitude that a pill is supposed to solve all these problems." 

Dr. Harris put his pad down on the table and leaned back as he watched the constant movements. Pure energy couldn't move faster. "Mulder, no one's saying the medication solves the problems. It just allows you to relax and be more comfortable, maybe even sleep so you can feel better." 

"I'll feel better when everybody gets the fuck out of my life and lets me get on with things. Going over all this shit doesn't change any of it, and while intellectually I know all the theories behind the techniques, I also know that it doesn't work for me. Believe me, Doc, it's all been tried before." 

"You've taken medication for depression before?" 

Shrugging, Mulder nodded. 

Looking puzzled, Harris asked, "Why isn't that in your records?" 

"Because I did it on my own." 

Sitting up straight, totally focused, Harris forced his voice to remain calm. "Explain that to me, Mulder. You're saying you medicated yourself with antidepressants even though you can't write a prescription?" 

Mulder raised his arms above his head, locked his hands, and stretched while he spoke. "There's nothing you can't get on the streets, Doc, even psych drugs." 

"And why would you do that instead of just getting it legally?" 

Bending over, Mulder started to do repeated exercises, first the touch to toes, then the turns right and left. "I didn't want it in my record that I was doing meds. As it turned out, they didn't help, though they did make me feel disconnected and lazy." 

"Disconnected?" 

"Yeah. My mind didn't want to work right. Everything seemed distant and unclear, like I didn't give a fuck about any of it." 

"When was this?" 

"It was way back when I was with Patterson." The mention of the name made Mulder stand up straight, hiding the internal cringe. 

_Fuck. Go away. Not Bill. Not now. I can't do that now._

Focusing his mind on a vague memory, he banished the image of his ex-boss and his unwelcome touches to a distant mental cage. He crossed his arms again while he paced. 

"I remember one case where I actually stood over a corpse and thought, what an unlucky fuck, and so what? I stopped taking the pills that night. I couldn't work that way. How was I supposed to get inside anybody's head if I couldn't even get inside my own, if I couldn't control my own thoughts?" 

Dr. Harris forced himself not to judge openly or start in on what a stupid thing Mulder had done. Instead, he asked, "There are all kinds of meds, Mulder, with different effects. What exactly did you take and for how long?" 

"Prozac. It was the easiest to get. I took it at a little above therapeutic levels for three months. The only thing it did was make me a zombie at work. It didn't even faze the nightmares." 

Harris brought a hand to his face to rub his chin. He wanted to select his words carefully. "Mulder, as a law enforcement officer, you realize you've just told me you broke the law." 

"I realize that." 

"So, this is your idea of a test, right?" 

Mulder smiled for the first time in the session. "Yeah, sort of. So, you going to turn me in?" 

"Well, if I did, you'd certainly have reason enough to get another therapist. Is that what you want?" 

Mulder stopped dancing for the briefest of moments. "No. I haven't finished breaking you in yet." 

"Is that the plan?" 

"What?" 

"To break me in, to gradually reveal all your secrets wondering which one will be the last straw, which one will send me hunting for the commitment papers or the cuffs?" 

Mulder's face flushed and a quick anger rocked through his voice. "My secrets are my own. If I tell you something, it's because it's my choice, not yours, not Walter's, not Scully's. That's the fucking point, Harris. I hate being put in this position, but by god if I do have to be here, it's going to be on my terms. No more fucking mind games or meds or anything else that you want to shove down my throat." 

As soon as the last words finished, Mulder flashed on another time, a belt around his throat, his mouth forced open, huge hands immobilizing his head. He jerked forward suddenly. "Shit." Slamming his fist into his thigh, he shut down the torturous scene as he started to choke. 

Mulder grabbed his stomach in misery. Desperately he dashed for the trash can by the side of Harris's desk and fell on his knees. Heaving the acrid coffee-donut mix into the container, he gagged helplessly, pulling at all the muscles in his chest and gut. By the time he'd finished, Harris stood beside him, holding out a damp cloth. "Here, Mulder, use this." 

Wiping his mouth, his words muffled, he spoke weakly. "Thanks." 

"Do you need any help?" 

"No. Give me a minute." Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought back the waves of nausea rolling through him. Slowly, the world settled to a stationery state, and he managed to get himself up and to the chair while Harris carried the trash and its stench to another room. He returned and handed Mulder a glass of water. 

"Drink this." 

"I don't want it." 

"Do you need to go to the restroom to rinse out your mouth?" 

"No. I'll be all right." Reluctantly he reached up and took the offered glass. After a few sips, he finished the whole thing. 

"Are you okay now?" The doctor's voice traveled a great distance to be heard. 

"I'm fine." Cold sweat layered his skin, his calves and forearms twitched. 

"You certainly don't look fine. You want to tell me what just happened?" 

"Sorry about that." Mulder shook his head, embarrassed, and avoided the dark eyes still studying him intently. "It must be the antibiotics. They're hard on the stomach." 

"The antibiotics?" 

"Yeah. Plus that second pot of coffee didn't help." 

"Second pot? Jesus, Mulder. You're wired enough. You need to cut back. Your system can't handle that right now. That much caffeine on your kidneys is just asking for trouble." 

"I know." Mulder rubbed his hands along his thighs, the spasms vibrating up through his palms. 

"Mulder, are you sure what just happened wasn't about something else? If you had a flashback, I need to know. What exactly did you remember?" 

Taking a deep breath, Mulder concentrated his efforts to tame his wild, unruly tongue. "Doctor, listen. You know my stomach is a terror. It's nothing. Now, isn't our time up yet? Nothing personal, but I feel like I've been here forever." 

"Actually we still have a few minutes left. If you don't want to talk about taking medication, why don't we talk about you and your relationship with your boss?" 

Another round of defenses rallied around his mind. He lowered his head and rubbed his weary eyes with the ball of each hand. "What's going on there isn't coming into this office." 

"Mulder, you've already told me that the two of you are more than just a subordinate and a superior." 

"Sub and dom? Sounds kinky, doc." 

The psychiatrist ignored the attempt at humorous deflection. "Is it?" 

Weary, Mulder shook his head. "You're not going to give up on this one, are you?" 

"I can't afford to, Mulder, and neither can you. I'm not here to judge or make decisions for you." 

"Well, that's a hell of a comfort." 

"I'm sure you've both considered the underlying, innate problems in starting a relationship between the two of you even under the best conditions." 

"You mean the fact that we're both men and in the FBI?" 

"And that it could be perceived as an abuse of power on AD Skinner's part?" 

"Yeah, that, too." 

"And that you're really in no emotional state to be starting any kind of new relationship?" 

Mulder smiled grimly and looked at the serious face watching him. "Jesus, doc, don't hold back. Tell me what you really think." 

"Frankly, it doesn't matter what I think." 

"And I think that's about the first thing you've said that I totally agree with, Harris." 

"Then let's stop on a high note." 

"Sounds good to me." 

As Mulder stood to leave, Dr. Harris added, "Before tomorrow, I want you to make a list of all the reasons why you want to be with Walter Skinner." 

Shaking his head, Mulder couldn't help but smile. If the good doctor wanted a list, he'd give him a fucking list. He wondered if he could make Harris blush. Bet he could, and then he felt the fire of his own heated skin. Trembling, he thought of asking Walter if he wanted to help with his homework later that night. 

In fact, the distraction of trying to walk, despite the heaviness growing between his legs, kept him from noticing the watchful pair of watery blue eyes that observed his awkward departure. He never even heard the low chuckle or the slightest whisper of his first name, a whisper from a voice that would've sent him tumbling into an abyss of absolute despair. 

* * *

Mulder's apartment Wednesday 8:30 PM 

Walter Skinner puttered around the kitchen like he owned the place, setting the table, stocking the cabinets, basically taking over. Mulder's feelings on the matter divided into two opposing camps. On the one hand, he loved the idea of being pampered, of having a handsome man like Walter stepping into help. On the other, it pissed him off no end. Who the hell did he think he was coming in and invading his territory like that? It made for a permanent twist and nagging pull at his gut. 

"Mulder, you want ginger ale or root beer?" 

"I want tea." 

"No tea. Too much caffeine." Walter set the glasses on the table as he watched Mulder flip nervously through another magazine. 

"Then how about a beer? That doesn't have caffeine." He tossed the book carelessly on the floor beside the couch. 

"No beer with the antibiotics." 

"Damn it, Walter, if I want a fucking beer, I'll have one." He stormed over to the table, his fists balled up beside him, the strain of control pumping through his arms. 

"Mulder, if you want a beer that badly, drink it, but I don't really think this is about that, do you?" The tone dripped so much patience, Mulder wanted to scream and rant and kick in the calm face staring him down. 

His throat hurt at the birth of words. "Jesus, Walter. Why does everything have to be so fucking hard with you?" 

"It's only hard if you want it to be, Mulder." 

"And why would I want it to be hard?" 

"Because it's what you do. It's what you know." 

The clarity of the statement floored him. 

_Jesus, Walter. You know too damn much._

His earlier rush of temper wavered and he sat down at the table, drained. "I guess root beer will be okay." 

His hand shook as it wrapped around the glass Walter handed him. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to blow up." 

"I know. Apology accepted. Now, do you want to the sesame chicken or the Mongolian beef?" 

"We have both?" For the first time in weeks, his appetite kicked in. 

Walter smiled at the greedy expression. "Well, that answers that question. I'll put them both out and you help yourself." He brought the bowls to the table and placed them in the center. 

"Where'd you get the new dishes?" Mulder scooped out the rice and a little of each of the side meals. 

"I got tired of using plastic." Walter sat down next to his young agent and grinned at the satisfaction of finally witnessing an inkling of hunger. 

"But plastic doesn't break." 

"And that's good because?" 

"It doesn't matter." Mulder savored the rich sauces and chewed in delight. "Man, this is really good." It'd been too long since he actually cared about eating, cared about anything much at all. After a few minutes he glanced up, suddenly aware of the quiet man beside him. He muttered between chews. "What?" 

"It just nice to see you eat for a change." 

"I eat." He stuffed another plump piece chicken into his mouth, a brown glaze dripping to his chin. 

"Well, it just good to see." 

Swallowing hard, Mulder smiled shyly back while he speared another bite while wiping off his face. "I see you got the mild sauce on this." 

"Yeah, I thought I'd hold off on the hot stuff until your stomach could handle it." 

"Normally a statement like that would probably piss me off." 

"Why's that?" Walter puzzled at the sight of Mulder pointing the chicken- donned fork in his direction. 

"Because once again you're making my decisions for me." 

The older man shook his head and picked up his own fork. "It's just Chinese take-out, Mulder. It's not like I'm deciding a major life choice." 

"I know. That's why I'm not going to argue about it. Next time though, get the extra hot if that's what you usually get. I don't want you making changes to fit around me." 

After a few moments, Walter spoke softly. "What if that's what I want to do, Mulder?" 

"What?" 

"Make changes to fit around you? I mean, let's be honest here. I'm not doing this as your boss. I'm not even doing it because I consider myself a friend." 

"Then why are you doing it?" 

"Because I love you." 

Mulder stopped mid-chew. He put his fork down and refused to make eye contact while he pushed back from the table. Walking to the other side of the room, he stood there facing the wall, totally quiet. Bringing a hand to his mouth, he touched and hated the slight tremor of his lips. Finally, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Walter. I just can't talk about that. I can't say it." 

"I know. I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry it's so hard for you to hear someone say those words. It hurts to know that you can't accept the possibility that someone can actually feel that deeply about you." 

"It'd be a lot easier if all you wanted to do was fuck me." 

Walter Skinner stood up and walked over to the couch. He stepped no closer, but he wanted to be heard over any demons that might mute his words. "Mulder, that isn't what I want. If we get together physically, I'll make love to you, but it will never just be some quick fuck. I don't fuck the person I love. Do you understand that?" 

Shutting down the terror flaming through his mind, Mulder pushed back. "But what if all I want is a quick fuck?" 

"Then we'll have a problem." 

Turning, Mulder fought to keep his distance, the blaze of passion in those dark brown eyes drawing him. Instead, he threw out another verbal assault. "Damn it, Walter, I never promised you anything. You sound like you want to go out and buy rings and a goddamn house or something just as crazy." 

"I never said that. I know you're nowhere near talking about anything like that for now." 

"Then you really have considered a permanent relationship?" 

"Yes." Walter's voice never wavered, not even a catch. 

"Jesus." Mulder edged his way to the sofa and sagged down. "I don't think I can handle this." 

"I know it's too soon, Mulder. I just didn't want you to even question my feelings for you. You can question every fucking thing in the universe, but don't ever doubt that no matter how hard you try to shut down or push me away, nothing will change the fact that I'm hopelessly connected to you." 

"Well, at least you've got the hopeless part right." After a brief pause, Walter sat down beside the young agent, but didn't touch him. Leaning back, he waited for Mulder to make the next move. 

"Walter?" 

"What?" 

"This scares the shit out of me." 

"Yeah. I figured that much out. Besides, I'm a scary guy, right?" 

Mulder cracked a reluctant grin. Turning, he scanned over the teasing features. "Man, you've got everybody so damn fooled it isn't even funny." 

"Well, not everybody." 

"Who's not scared of Walter Skinner?" 

"Well, Scully for one." 

"Yeah, but Scully's fearless. She doesn't count." 

Testing a hand on Mulder's back, the slightest flinch settled as he massaged up and down his spine. "You're wrong about Scully." 

Comforted by the strong, persistent fingers, Mulder closed his eyes letting his muscles thicken with fatigue. "How's that?" 

"She's afraid for you sometimes." 

He stiffened slightly at the sad reality behind the words, but let himself relax against both the hands now kneading his shoulders. 

"She worries too much. She needs to take a lover." 

"You think that would do it for her?" 

"Sure. Why not?" 

"You tell her that?" 

"What? You think I'm that crazy? Not hardly. Besides, she's been too busy taking care of me to find anybody." 

Walter leaned his forehead against Mulder's back and then drew him into his arms. "Maybe we can change that. Maybe we can give the lady a break." 

Turning, his head cradled against a broad chest, Mulder lazily stroked the arm wrapped around him. "How?" 

"Let me take care of you for awhile." 

Drowsy and strangely at home, the heart beat lulled him to a comfortable place somewhere between total awareness and sleep. Before he could guard himself, he smiled. "That sounds nice, Walter." 

"Yes, it does." A firm hand petted dark hair as Mulder's breathing lengthened and evened out. After a few minutes, Walter Skinner sat there worried, but content, the man he loved nestled in his supporting arms. 

* * *

Gulls called low from the ground as a brisk wind bit and stung his cheek. Pulling himself up from his stomach, Mulder scanned the dark beach where he lay dressed only in wet jeans and T-shirt. All around him rocks rippled the incoming tide and sea grass bent flat in surrender, slapped by storm air rising. Sand-covered palms came up to rub heat back into frozen arms, scratching tender skin. He spat out the gritty shells coating dusted lips before he discovered his voice didn't work. No words formed and when he tried to stand, his legs failed to move. 

"Fox?" Samantha's voice called to him, but he couldn't answer. His chest ached, the air shredding his lungs. 

"Fox, it's okay. Just lie back down and listen." His vision blurred to grey smears, cloudy film all around, as a small gentle hand pushed him back against the sand. He lost all strength, every cell heavy as a single cold stone. His whole body refused to function and slowly iced over. Drifting down into a foamy darkness, he heard the simple voice. "You can't forget, Fox. You can't forget." 

His mind gibbered into the black yawn of forever and nothing echoed back. Salt water bathed him into numbness and slowly covered his feeble breaths. 

* * *

Jerking up, Mulder awoke fighting for air. Coughing wildly, he tried desperately to recover his reality. Strong arms held him tight and slowly the homing voice of Walter Skinner broke through the paralyzing screams of his own terror. "Mulder, it's okay. You're safe. Wake up." 

Slowly he saw the dark brown eyes and the color of living flesh. Reaching out a testing hand, he rubbed a thumb over the tired cheek of the man holding him at his chest. "Jesus, Walter." 

"You awake?" 

"I sure as hell hope so. Damn." Slumping forward, he let his pounding head rest on soft knit of undershirt. Bringing up his palm, he placed it over the loud heart beating just above the left nipple. Feeling safe, he leaned in and kissed the nub beneath the cloth, pleased to hear the slight hitch in the broad chest. 

"Mulder, what the hell?" 

"It's okay, Walter, I'm just glad you're here." He nuzzled his head for a few moments more and then moved away. Pushing his hair back out of his eyes and tried to swallow, but found himself incredibly dry. He coughed a few more times. 

Walter stood up, walked over to the kitchen, and returned quickly with a glass of water. 

"Thanks." 

"You okay now?" The worry curved the words. 

"Yeah. It's just another nightmare. You should be used to them by now." 

"I'll never be used to them, Mulder." While the young man straightened his legs around and sat up, Walter settled beside him on the couch. "How long have these things been going on?" 

"What, the nightmares?" Mulder finished off the water and put the empty glass on the table. 

"You can't tell me that this is happening all of a sudden. You're just too good at dismissing them." 

"You're right. They've been going on all my life. Sometimes they're really bad, sometimes they're not." 

"Shit, Mulder. How do you ever get any sleep?" 

Nervous at the topic and still a bit shaky, he just shrugged. "Like I said, you get used to it. Besides, I'm lucky. I've never needed much sleep." 

"Some kind of lucky." As Mulder tried to get up, he found his wrist wrapped in a larger hand. "Wait. You want to talk about this?" 

"Not particularly. I have to go to the bathroom." 

"Mulder, you need to talk about it. What were you dreaming? You were choking in your sleep for godsakes." 

He shook off the restraint and stood up. "I dreamed I was drowning. I woke up. It's no big deal." 

"No big deal?" 

"That's right. Now lighten up." He escaped to the bathroom, locking the door behind him, and leaned heavily against the coolness of the sink. Quickly he relieved himself and then closed the lid to sit for a few minutes. His sweat pants still down, he found himself rubbing the thin scars running up the inside of his leg. A few lines freshly pink reminded him of the most recent cuts. 

_God, just one slice would do it. Just one._

Biting his lip, he traced his finger along the puckers, testimony to his own control over pain. 

A sudden knock brought him back from that comfort zone in his head. "Mulder, open the door." 

"Walter, I'm okay. Just give me a minute." 

"If you're not out in a minute, I'm breaking down the goddamn door." 

"Come on, Walter. Don't be stupid. I'm going to the bathroom for godsakes." 

"You'd better be sure that's all you're doing." 

Shit. Standing, he pulled up his pants and flushed the toilet. Running the water an annoyingly long time, he washed his hands imagining a stream of blood filling the sink, a stream he'd put there if he could be alone for just a few more minutes. 

Pulling the door open with more force than he intended, he found himself face to face with a worried Walter Skinner. "Calm down. I didn't cut myself." 

"But you thought about it." 

"Well, hell, Walter, I always think about it." 

Pushing past the older man, Mulder made his way to the kitchen. He reached into the refrigerator and brought out a beer. Holding it up to the disapproving scowl, he shook his head as he removed the cap. "Consider it a compromise. A beer instead of a cut." 

"Jesus, Mulder." 

"I know. I'm fucked up. You can say it. It's not like I haven't heard it before." 

Walter sat down at the table without saying anything. He watched as Mulder drank half the beer in one long pull. Finally, he spoke softly. "It's three in the morning. You should at least try to go back to sleep for a little while." 

"You've stayed over enough to know that's not going to happen." After he finished the bottle, he dropped it into the trash. Turning away, he braced himself against the edge of the kitchen sink. "I'm sorry, Walter." 

"About what?" 

"About everything. You shouldn't have to take care of this whole mess." 

"And you should? Listen to me. You don't deserve to have to deal with all this alone. None of this is your fault. I'm not going to sit here and listen to that kind of bullshit." 

"Then you need to go home." 

"I'm not leaving, so don't even suggest it." 

"God, you're a stubborn bastard, Walter Skinner." 

"You bet. Now, if you won't talk to me about how you're feeling, I'm going to try to get some more sleep. I'd like you to at least lie down with me, but if not, I'll understand. What I won't understand is if you sneak around and cut yourself. That would really piss me off." 

"I know that." 

"Then know this. If you ever hurt yourself on purpose, you're going to have to do it with me watching. You think you could do that?" 

Mulder's head jerked up in surprise. "What?" 

"You heard me. I'm not ever going to condone that kind of behavior. I think you know that. So, if you decide to do it after you've promised to stop, then you'd damn well better have the balls to do it in my face and not behind a fucking locked door." 

Ashamed, he stared down at his hands, totally impotent to stop the complete humiliation raving like lunatics racing through his chest. His words stuttered in his throat. "You don't understand." 

"You're right. And I'm never going to, Mulder. I mean, I've read the psych reports. I know that self-mutilation comes from a need to control and externalize pain, but, shit, that's in a book. You want me to sit here and accept that you need to slice open your leg to feel better? Forget about it. You're going to have to find a different way. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself anymore." 

Anger's roar and thunder rushed through his ears and then turned to flash red lightning across his eyes. He could barely breathe. He hissed the words. "Won't fucking let me? Who the hell do you think you are anyway?" 

"I'm a man who loves a man who finds it impossible to love himself." 

Energy drained away, Mulder's whole body sagged. "Then you're a fool. You need to go home, Walter. You're fighting a losing battle here." 

Moving closer, standing at arm's length, Walter whispered, "It's both our battles, Mulder. It's a battle I don't plan to lose." 

Biting his lip, struggling to hold back the sting of tears, Mulder shook his head. "It's all too hard. I don't want to do this anymore." 

"Let me help you." 

"God, Walter." Standing beside him, the older man placed a gentle hand on the trembling back. Slowly, he drew Mulder into his arms and let the man he loved shed scalding tears that branded his back with his wealth of pain. 

* * *

Mulder's apartment Thursday 7:30 AM 

Turning on his side, Mulder huddled down deeper under the blanket. He heard the toilet flush and realized once again that he wasn't alone. Footsteps brought a shadow to stand near his head. He closed his swollen eyelids and feigned sleep. 

"Mulder, I know you're awake. You feeling any better?" 

_No, I feel like shit, thank you very much._

"Yeah, I'm fine. So, I guess I was able to go back to sleep, huh?" 

"Eventually. It was a rough night. You need anything before I leave?" 

_A sharp knife would be nice._

"No." 

The slight rustle of cloth alerted him to the shifting position of the man beside him. He opened his eyes to stare directly into Walter's lenses, dark brown pools floating behind them. Kneeling beside the couch, Walter stroked his mussed hair and whispered, "Are you sure?" 

"I'm okay, Walter. I promise to be good." 

"I wish I could stay, but I've got a meeting at 8:30." 

"It's okay. Tell Scully hi for me." 

"I will. Your meds are on the table. Don't forget to take them and your meeting with Harris is at noon today." 

Grumbling down in his chest, the heavy weight of movement almost too much to bear, Mulder closed his eyes and kept them that way to avoid the offending light. "Walter, go to work. You're making me tired already." 

A gentle wetness touched his forehead and Mulder jerked back, confused for the briefest moment. "Stop. Shit, what was that?" 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. It was just a kiss." 

Settling back, his heartbeat slowly eased down to double speed. 

_Fucking calm down. Jesus, I'm so stupid._

"I'm sorry. You just startled me." 

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I didn't think. Try to go back to sleep. You need it. I'll call you this afternoon." Moments later the door opened and shut, the lock turning with a loud clicking of the key. 

His limbs too heavy to lift, Mulder gave in to the urgent need to turn off his brain for awhile. Energy-abandoned, he lay there drifting, praying to stay away from even the most simple dream. He just wanted to sleep and forget about all the terrible screams that never gave up. Escape would be so easy if he could just sleep forever, just never wake up and he'd be free. 

* * *

Dr. Harris's Office Thursday 12:15 PM 

Mulder walked in, his shoulders slumped and his hair uncombed. Suit and tie gone, he dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, his black leather jacket and sneakers. Dark circles surrounded blood-shot eyes and stubble sprouted unchallenged on his cheeks. His voice traveled flat and tired through the air, no emotion to flavor the words. "Sorry, I'm late." 

_Not really, asshole, but I'm here. Let's get this farce over with._

Taking in the appearance, Harris asked, "What's going on, Mulder?" 

"Nothing. I'm just running late." 

"That's not what I'm talking about. Did you forget to take a shower and shave this morning?" 

_Who the fuck cares?_

"I told you I didn't have time." 

"You want to tell me why?" 

_Not really._

"I dropped off after Walter left for work and I overslept." 

"Is that because you didn't sleep last night?" 

"Damn it, why are you making a federal case out of this? I overslept. Fucking get over it." The anger scorched the words with too much passion. He regretted the slip immediately when he saw Dr. Harris direct him to his chair, a mask of concern staring his way. 

_Oh, shit._

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just a little out of it today." 

"You want to tell me why?" 

_Hell, no, you bastard. I don't want to tell you another fucking thing_. 

"No, not really." 

"Try." 

_Damn, I hate this shit._

"I had a bad night." 

"You can do better than that, Mulder. Did you have a nightmare?" 

"Yeah, but it wasn't that bad. I just hated that Walter saw it." 

"Walter's been staying overnight?" 

_Man, make your fucking point. I know you hate him. Too bad, he's sticking around, why I don't have a clue, but he's there. Don't even try to run him down._

"Yeah. You got a problem with that?" 

"Are you two intimate?" 

Mulder came out of the chair so fast, that Harris barely recognized the fact that he had a fist grabbing his shirt front. "Is that what you think? That he just wants to fuck me? Is it, you bastard?" 

His voice a practiced calm, Harris spoke evenly, but clearly. "Let go and sit down, Mulder." 

His heartbeat racing and his breathing almost a roar, Mulder finally realized where he stood. The doctor repeated himself before the hand released its hold and the young man settled back down in his chair. 

_Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. What a stupid freak._

"I'm sorry." The words quivered against resistant air. "I don't know what made me do that." 

"Don't you?" 

"Jesus, don't start with that question for every question shit. I'm sorry, okay?" 

"You still didn't answer my question." 

"Which one?" 

_Hell, I know which one._

"Are you and Skinner sleeping together?" 

"Why do you want to know? What difference does it make anyway?" 

_I don't want to talk about this. Let it alone._

"Mulder, you're a rape survivor. I don't have to tell you what problems could occur if you move into a new sexual partnership too soon." 

"You don't know dick, Harris." 

"That's an interesting choice of wording considering the circumstances." 

"Don't be a fucking smart ass." 

_Leave it the fuck alone._

"I'm not trying to be. I'm just concerned. You know as well as I do, that sometimes rape and abuse survivors go after inappropriate sexual experiences." 

"I know. The slut response." 

"It's not called that." 

"Not in the text book maybe, but you know the term. The victim becomes promiscuous or sexually aggressive to prove how fucking worthless he or she is. I'm not doing that. Walter cares about me." 

"I'm not saying he doesn't." 

_You damn well better not be, asshole._

"Then what are you saying?" 

"I just want you to go slow and be sure that when you get into bed with somebody, it's for the right reasons." 

_Humiliation, control, fear, punishment, take your pick._

"And that would be what, true love or during some candlelit happily ever after kind of moment? Get real, doctor. Romance is a fucking joke. If and when I decide to sleep with Walter Skinner, it'll be between us. Why we do it or how we do it is none of your goddamn business." 

Harris kept his voice neutral and non-threatening. Even so, his words and purpose came across crystal clear. "It is my business if it sets you up for an emotional crisis. Mulder, you still haven't even talked about your assault yet and it's been almost a month. You haven't come to terms with any aspect of it." 

_Shit, no way I'm doing that today. No fucking way. Please stop me._

Mulder stood up and started pacing again, this time his fists balled and strike ready, anger burning in his chest like a raging, all-consuming heat. 

"What do you want me to say? Talking about it doesn't fix anything. I know I got raped. Big fuck. So what? Happens every few minutes in this great land of ours. Boys and girls get raped by their fathers every day. Everybody knows, but nobody does a fucking thing to stop it. Mothers look the other way. So what? Wives and babies and, hell, even federal agents get beaten and screwed. Again, so what? I'm not so special. If I want to forget about the assholes who raped me, why won't you let me? They're dead. It's over." 

The tense shiver of the air pushed Dr. Harris back into his chair. Fearfully, he waited for Mulder to stop slamming fist to palm, to stop shaking with every breath. Finally, the young man deliberately placed both hands against the wall to steady himself into stillness. He leaned there, head bowed, trying just to keep on being alive without vanishing like fragile fog from the surface of the earth. 

Harris spoke softly, "Mulder?" 

"What?" He stood there, still bracing himself, still keeping his eyes squeezed shut. 

"Who are they?" 

"They who?" 

"You said they're dead, not he's dead. Who are they?" 

_Shit._

"I meant he's dead." 

"Mulder, who were you talking about? What boy got raped and nobody stopped it? Who's mother turned away?" 

"God. Please stop asking me that. I was just talking." 

"About yourself?" 

_Oh, shit._

"Fuck this. I'm out of here." 

Mulder grabbed for the door, but before he could open it, Harris stood by his side. "You're upset. You shouldn't leave yet." 

"Get away from me, motherfucker." Air in his lungs turned to barbed hooks snagged in flesh, more bloody with each word. 

"Please stay, Mulder. We'll talk about something else." 

"No." 

_You talked enough, you bastard. I've talked enough._

Before he could stop him, Mulder slammed open the door and stomped away, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. Dr. Harris turned quickly to dial a number he unfortunately knew by heart. 

* * *

AD Skinner's office Thursday 12:45 PM 

"Sir, we have a problem." Agent Dana Scully barged through his door, coming into his office unannounced. Her flushed face and taut features brought Skinner to his feet. 

"What's going on?" He walked over, motioned to Kim to get back to work, and closed the door. 

"Dr. Harris just called. He's worried about Mulder." 

_Shit. I shouldn't have left him alone._

"What happened?" 

"He wouldn't say what they were talking about, but he said Mulder got extremely agitated and left. He said he was afraid he might not be thinking clearly." 

"Did he think he might hurt himself?" 

"He didn't come right out and say that, but I think he's worried that he might do something impulsive, possibly dangerous." 

Skinner picked up his phone and dialed Mulder's number directly. Letting it ring, he turned back to Scully. "Why didn't Harris call me?" 

"I don't know." Scully watched the AD's frown deepen. She took in his haggard features, the fatigue darkening his face. 

"There's no answer, just the machine." He put the phone down. "Where do you think he'd go?" 

"Normally, he'd probably come to the office or go running, but he can't do that right now. I'm not sure where he'd go. I've tried my place and the Lone Gunman, but he's not there. Do you think he'd go to your place?" 

"He never has before, so, no I doubt it. Are these Lone Gun people reliable?" 

"Yes. They'll call if he shows up, plus they're searching on their own." 

Skinner turned, his face pinched and tight. He fought down the desperate urge to panic, falling back on years of training. Even so, his stomach hurt from the effort. "Should I put out an APB?" 

"Well, if you do and he shows up okay, he's going to be really pissed." 

"True, but if I don't and he does something stupid, well, I don't even want to think about it." 

"I know. I'm worried, too." 

Skinner turned around and focused on Mulder's partner, the narrow shoulders squared and determined. "I'll put a watch order on his apartment and give him a couple of hours. After that, he can be pissed all he wants as long as I find him safe." 

"That sounds reasonable, sir." 

"Nothing's reasonable these days when it comes to Mulder, Scully." 

_About time you figured that out, sir. And, it's only going to get worse._

* * *

Paddy's Pub Thursday 2PM 

Mulder hated cigarette smoke, but at the moment he could've cared less if the whole world lit up. He sat in the dark corner sipping the fourth shot of scotch and wondered if his stomach would make it through a fifth. He needed the fuzzy relief from reality alcohol would give him. He didn't use it often, but when he did, by god, he wanted it to do its damn job and be done with it. He craved oblivion as a refuge from the hateful place banging to be reckoned with inside his head. 

_Just Shut the Fuck up. I am NOT listening to anymore shit._

He drank some more and then rubbed the small of his back. He'd forgotten his antibiotics and the alcohol strained his kidneys more than he cared to admit. Dismissing the growing ache as stress, he finished off the drink and started to get up for another. 

Alex Krycek settled like a nightmare apparition in the chair across from him. "Hello, Mulder." 

_Shit. Trouble on a stick._

"What the fuck are you doing here, Krycek?" 

"Just passing through." 

"Fucking liar." Mulder focused on the man across from him. Long dark bangs fell carelessly across his forehead while intense sea green eyes stared back. Only his right hand rested on the table. Mulder's mind flashed on the amputated left and an empty sleeve along with the whispered touch of silky fine lips pressed to his cheek. He glanced away quickly, his face flushed with shame and lustful memory. 

"Want some coffee?" 

"Does it look like I want any fucking coffee?" 

"Another drink then?" 

His groin tightened his jeans as the words, low and gravely, tickled his ear with a dangerous desire. He wondered what Walter would do when he found out he'd had a drink with his worst enemy, the man who'd killed his father, a man he should never trust. 

"Sure, why the hell not? I'm having scotch." 

"I know. You've had four already. In less than an hour, I might add." Krycek motioned for a waitress and then ordered quickly. 

As soon as the young girl left, Mulder leaned in, his words a hoarse hissing. "You've been following me?" 

"Hell, Mulder, the whole world's following you these days, though I'd say you've been a little too preoccupied and careless to notice." 

Falling back, Mulder fought to contain the wide sweep of anger. The ratbastard knew, everybody knew. _Fuck._

"Tell me what you're talking about, you son of a bitch." 

"Now, now, Mulder. No need to get testy. I'm actually on your side on this one. This whole Turner business has been a fucking disaster from the start." 

Just as Mulder started to speak, the waitress brought another scotch and a beer. Krycek paid and flirted and then she went away. 

Seething and impatient, Mulder growled. "Tell me." 

"Aaron Turner was an obsessive psychopath. Everybody knew the freak was kinked beyond all reason, but nobody stopped him until he'd already done the damage. By the way, I'm sorry I wasn't in town for that." 

"You motherfucker." Mulder stood, ready to lurch away from the table, but Krycek raised his one good hand. 

"I'm sorry. That didn't come out right." The younger man ran an anxious hand through his hair and wiped the light sheen of sweat from his face. "Jesus, Mulder, I just meant I'm sorry. I'm really sorry I couldn't do anything before it happened, you know." 

Mulder settled back down and picked up his drink. His fingertips pushed numbly across the rounded top edge. He could barely feel anything, nothing fazed him. If only he could squeeze hard enough, he'd break the glass and slice open the palm, let the blood ooze along a thin straight line. 

Clarity mocked him from a distance as he mumbled, "Doesn't matter." He sipped slowly, liquid fire burning his throat. 

"Sure it does, Mulder. What's the matter with you anyway? It's not like you to give up." 

"I haven't given up. I just don't give a shit anymore. Never did, really, but you'd know about not giving a shit, wouldn't you, Alex?" 

"You're drunk, Mulder." 

"Yep. You got a problem with that?" 

"I've got no problem. Doesn't matter to me if you pickle your beautiful brain in 100 proof. Your body still looks pretty damn delicious though." 

"Shut up, Alex. I'm tired. Tell me why you're here." 

"Turner's actions weren't sanctioned. You knew about the bullet in the head, right?" 

Visualizing the black and white photograph of his tormentor's corpse, he nodded. "Damn pretty sight. A shame I couldn't have done it myself though." 

"I understand that." 

Mulder's eyes locked with Krycek's, the anger blazing just beneath a muted festival of gold and green. "Do you?" 

"Yes, Mulder, I do." 

A moment of knowing silence passed between them. "Why are you here, Krycek? Run out of secrets to sell? No more fathers to kill?" 

"Shut up, Mulder. I didn't come here to fight. I want to help you since you're obviously in no shape to help yourself." 

"I don't need your help." The shot glass shook in his uplifted hand. 

"No? What? You think your man Skinner has a clue about what's going on?" 

"Don't bring him into this." 

"Why not? He's your old man now, right?" 

_Never my old man, you motherfucker. Never that._

"Leave him out of this. Tell me what you want." His sluggish tongue worked too hard to form the words. They sounded mushy and slurred even to his own ears. 

"Mulder, you're a mess. You need somebody to take care of you until this thing with Turner is over." 

"What are you talking about, Krycek? Turner's dead. Your old boss saw to that. Scully autopsied the body." 

"Aaron Turner may be dead, but his crazy ass brother isn't. Derik Turner blames you for his brother's death. At last count, he's already killed the two guys and the driver that did the contract and now he's out to finish the job by doing you." 

"Shit." 

"Yes, I'd say that about covers it." 

Seeing Mulder's eyelids droop as he lowered his head down with a loose thump onto crossed arms, Krycek moaned. "Damn, Mulder, I sure hope I don't have to carry your drunk ass out of here." 

He reached over and gave the limp shoulder a shove. "Mulder? Well, shit." 

* * *

AD Skinner's office Thursday 4 PM 

The phone rang through to Skinner's direct line. He snatched up the receiver, hopeful. "Mulder?" 

"Nope, try again." 

The vague familiarity startled him. "Krycek?" 

"Pretty good ear for an old man." 

"How did you get this number?" 

"A better question might be why Mulder has it set as a speed dial on his cell phone." 

_Fuck._

Skinner sat down in his chair, straining to keep his voice level. "Is he okay?" 

"Not really, but then you probably already know what a mess he is. The point is that he's in trouble. Right now he's safe and I'm doing what I can to keep him that way." 

"What's your game in this, Krycek?" 

"My game? Listen, all you need to know is that for now he's protected. What you have to do is visit our mutual nemesis and ask him about Derik Turner. And, Skinner, you'd better hurry. The time's running out on this one. We both know Mulder's on self-destruct." 

Before he could say anything else, the phone clicked off. "Shit." 

_You hurt him and you're a dead man._

Seconds later he used the phone to put out an order to pull all records concerning a Derik Turner and then left to find the devil, the devil who just wouldn't die. 

* * *

10 PM Thursday at a location unknown 

Mulder swam up from a swirling darkness, head spinning and his stomach ready to clutch broken glass. He swallowed a sour dryness before he could speak. "Shit." As he turned over, he flashed on another time when his hand refused to move. Pulling at his arm, he finally centered his sight on the cuff restraining him to the wooden headboard. Panic screamed and razored through all reason. Blood welled up around his right wrist before, Krycek could push him back down. 

"Jesus, Mulder, hold up. What the fuck's wrong with you?" Still struggling, the taller man continued to scream and kick, uselessly trying to free himself from the absolute hold of anguished memory. 

"Stop it, goddamn it." Krycek stretched his body across the terrified man. He tried desperately to connect, to find some semblance of lucidity hiding behind those clouded eyes. Finally, Mulder stopped moving, but low, pitiful moans sang with whimpers. 

"Jesus, what the fuck did he do to you, man?" He carefully eased himself up, all the while watching for awareness to return. Kneeling by the bed, he waited. 

Finally, he heard a whisper. "Get them off me, Alex. Please." 

"You're scaring the shit out of me, Mulder." 

"The cuffs. Get them off." He lay there, his eyes still squeezed shut, his breathing ragged, on the verge of another sprinting frenzy. 

"Not unless you promise not to fight or run. You've got to stay here until we can take care of Turner." 

"I promise. Just get them off or shoot me. I don't really care which." 

Krycek stood up and, as gently as he could, unlocked the bloody silver bracelet. "Damn it, Mulder. I think you broke your wrist." 

Drawing the hand down, Mulder curled up on his side, cradling the damaged arm to his chest. He remained silent on the bed, his mind still foggy and unsure. Fire and ice jumped spot to spot all over his body, shimmering between sweat and a thin crusty glaze. His back throbbed unmercifully in a counter rhythm to the rising churn of his uneasy stomach. His head felt numb except for the pounding cadence of marching soldiers, booted warriors banded together to kick through his skull. He wanted to withdraw completely, go away. It didn't seem like such a huge thing to ask. 

"Mulder, come back to me here. Stop messing with my head." 

The sharp ache in his wrist along with the constant hum of Krycek's voice finally brought him into focus. Clearing his throat, his voice came out raspy. "I'm okay, Alex. You can stop babbling." 

"Babbling? Yeah, that's rich coming from you. What the hell happened to you, Mulder? I've never seen you act like that." 

"Nothing a little thorazine wouldn't cure. Don't worry about it. I'm okay as long as you don't try to restrain me." 

"Shit. Did Turner do that to you?" 

Blinking several times, Mulder skipped the question. "Where the hell are we?" 

Krycek shook his head. "You're in a safe house I use sometimes. Come on, Mulder. You need to sit up and I need to clean and wrap that wrist. Jesus, Skinner's going to kill me when he sees this." 

Sitting up too quickly, Mulder fell forward going into the direction of the spin. 

"Whoa, there. Don't fall off the bed for christsakes." 

As soon as he could speak, his words came out in a rush. "I need to call Walter." 

"I've already done that. He knows you're safe." 

"What? You called him? Shit, that hurts." He hissed as Krycek took his arm and dabbed at the blood still oozing from the wound around the bone jutting up through the skin. 

"Mulder, you've got a compound fracture here. A fine time to go nuts. There's no way I can get you to a hospital tonight." 

"I don't need a hospital." He gritted his teeth as Alex touched the wrist again. "I need to talk to Walter. He's going to think you kidnapped me or something. He trusts you less than I do. Hell, he hates your sorry Russian ass." 

"But he loves yours. I always thought there was something going on there, but I was never quite sure. He was always so damn proper, well, except for that time on the balcony. Then I knew the old man had a fire going." 

"Don't call him that." 

"What? Old man? Don't be so damn sensitive. Hell, he's the lucky fuck, so I'll make fun of him if I want to." 

Mulder found it difficult to concentrate. Light narrowed down as Krycek wrapped and tied a cloth around his arm. His rebellious stomach rolled north as ice froze tissue to his bones. "I think I'm going to be sick." 

"Shit. Hold on a minute." Krycek grabbed the trash and put it by the bed. After a few moments, the crisis passed. Reaching up a hand, Krycek touched his forehead. "Mulder, you're going into shock here. Maybe you should lie back down after all." 

"Okay." Weakly, Mulder let himself be eased flat on his back, his feet elevated with pillows. A warm blanket draped across him as he let himself drift for awhile in a grey murky comfort. Some time later, the chills lessened, his vision cleared. 

"Thanks, Alex." 

"Mulder, we have to talk." Mulder turned his attention on the strained features of the young man sitting at the end of the bed. 

"About?" 

"Skinner's working on finding Turner, but in case he doesn't get to him in time, we need a backup plan." 

"What did you have in mind?" 

"First, how come you don't have a gun, not even that little one you wear around your ankle?" 

Squirming to adjust his view, Mulder caught a quick breath as the movement jarred his arm. Finally he answered, "Walter, didn't want me to have a gun right now." 

Silent, Krycek nodded, taking in the full meaning behind the statement. "God, Mulder, they didn't tell me you were such a wreck." 

He saw no point in arguing, so he countered with a question. "Have you got a gun I can use?" 

"Well, I would have if you hadn't broken your right arm. Can you shoot with your left?" 

"If I have to, I can. Do you think he'll find us here?" 

"Turner's good, Mulder. I'm not going to bullshit you on that. If Skinner can stop him, we might have a chance, but otherwise, if he gets in here, shoot the bastard first. Don't wait around to count the bullets, my friend, because he's an evil piece of work. Makes Aaron look like a fucking priest." 

Mulder cringed involuntarily, but managed to control his tongue. "Then I guess you'd better get me a loaded gun, Alex, because I'll eat a bullet before I let another man touch me like that." 

"Come on, Mulder. Don't kid around." 

His voice tense, his lips barely moving. "You think I'm kidding?" 

The air sucked at the silence between them. "No, I don't guess you are." 

"Then get me the fucking gun." 

"Why don't we try to get you sitting up first?" 

"Picky bastard." 

* * *

A Washington office Friday 12AM 

"You surprise me, Mr. Skinner. You're to be commended. I never expected you could find me with such alacrity." The Smoking man sat in the shadow of the office, the desk light shining low over a small file on his desk. 

"Mulder's life is at stake here. You helped once. Now I need to know about Turner's brother." Impatience traced like restless bees buzzing across the top of his hands. 

"I assure you Mr. Turner is not one of ours any longer. He's acting completely on his own." 

"I don't give a rat's ass who he's acting for. I just need to know where to find him and how to stop him." Skinner stepped closer, his voice tight near growling, his teeth edged sharp against his lips. 

"If I may ask, how exactly did you hear about Mr. Turner?" 

"Krycek called me." 

"Alex Krycek?" The man puffed harder, the curls of smoke spinning up into the corners of the room. 

"He said that you could tell me where to find this Turner." 

"I find an occasional irony in life can certainly make for an interesting turn of events, don't you, Mr. Skinner?" 

"Cut the fucking riddles and tell me how I can stop this maniac before he catches up with Mulder." 

The desk chair swiveled around bringing the wrinkled face of evil halfway into the light. "Is Mr. Mulder with Krycek now?" 

"Yes, why?" 

"Then our Mr. Mulder is in even more trouble from the infamous Derik Turner." 

"What are you talking about?" Sweat dripped around the edges of Skinner's jaw as his neck pushed rebellious against the collar. 

"Agent Krycek was once Turner's, shall we say, companion. If he's stepped in to help Mulder now, well, that should lead to an even more complicated picture than we had before." 

Choking back his own fears, Skinner inched closer. He wanted to watch the bastard, to see the lies snaked between the truths. "Are you saying Krycek and Turner were lovers?" 

"I'm sure love was never an issue, Mr. Skinner." The sick twist of lechery turned Skinner's gut. 

"And now Turner's going to be even more pissed that Krycek is helping Mulder?" 

"Turner is known for his rather extreme forms of retribution. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he would consider this an act of betrayal, especially in light of the fact that he blames Mulder for his brother's death." 

"Why hasn't he come after you?" 

"Probably because he knows I didn't actually give the order for his brother's termination. I didn't know anyone would alert Krycek, but since he's involved, it would make sense that he'd use one of the safe houses listed in the file. If you can get to the right one before Turner, you might be able to save your Agent Mulder's life. If not, at least you'll no doubt have the pleasure of knowing that Alex Krycek will also be dead. Truth be known, Derik Turner isn't noted for his mercy." 

Stomach twisting, his muscles barely under his command, Skinner reached for the folder. The bony hand grabbed his and held it there. 

"Get the fuck off." 

He released the hand with a leisurely withdrawal. "Save him, Mr. Skinner, and you could be greatly rewarded. Fail and the consequences will be extensive." 

"If Mulder's so important to your plans, why have you let this happen? Why didn't you stop the Turners before it went this far?" 

"Hindsight is a wonderful luxury for the objective party, Mr. Skinner. Why didn't you keep Agent Mulder safe yourself? I was under the distinct impression he was under your, shall we say, personal protection? We all have our limits, suffer setbacks from time to time. My connections were temporarily curtailed, but now you have a chance to be the hero. Isn't that what you've always played at? Surely you recognize the syndrome." 

"If he dies, I'll be back here." 

"Threats are of little value. We trade in the balance between truth and actions. If you want to be a player, win a game a few times first. Save Agent Mulder and I might be able to see a purpose in helping you in the future." 

"I don't need your kind of help." 

"Oh really? Then I suppose you won't need this after all then?" He reached for the file, but Skinner's hand slapped down hard. 

"No." He picked up the file and turned to leave. 

"Mr. Skinner, a word of advice. I'd take a rather large contingency of forces with you when you do go in to play your hero. Turner doesn't work for us full time now, but when he did, he was the very best at what he did." 

"And what exactly did he do?" 

"After terminating his targets? Whatever he pleased." 

* * *

3 AM Friday Safe House 

Mulder rode a swirl of visions, floating along deep glacial cliffs, shimmering crystals of frost coating his skin, lakes of near-freezing water leaching away all warmth. He remembered vaguely other times when he'd faced such icy prisons, but now he drifted once again in a space so devoid of heat that he knew nothing of the cruel and faceless sun. 

He rolled into another shivering embrace to spear himself on the sharp snapping of his own brittle bones. Opening his eyes slowly only exploded into more intense pain shooting up through his arm into his shoulder and neck. 

A piercing heat touched his chest. "Lie still, Mulder. You're burning up." 

Swallowing short and shallow wisps of frigid air, he worked to move a frost- bitten tongue. "I'm freezing." 

"You have a fever. It could be the arm, but it came on too fast for that." 

"Kidneys." 

"What are you talking about, Mulder? What do your kidneys have to do with your being sick?" Krycek placed the damp cloth over the sweat-coated forehead, the raging body heat steaming the cooling liquid too quickly. 

"Injured. Attack." The words found a difficult path through chattering teeth. 

"Aaron injured your kidneys? Shit. That son of a bitch." Krycek tucked the cover back around the shaking shoulders and then rewet the cloth. 

Mulder tried to push away the cold, but found no energy to move. Closing glassy eyes, he prayed the heat of fever would blister away his misery and protect him from the blizzard of fear and growing numbness that blinded him. From an even further distance he heard a crash. Krycek yelled a name and a plea. "Derik. No!" And then silence and darkness married in his brain. 

* * *

6:30 AM Friday Safe house 

Walter Skinner found it very difficult to breath with his heart permanently lodged in his throat. Nobody but Scully noticed that his voice only sounded half as loud as usual. A small hand rested on his shirt sleeve. "Sir, are you going to be okay?" 

"I'm fine. As soon as we find Mulder, I'll be even better." 

Another agent came up behind Skinner and spoke in a hush. "We're only tracking one person inside, sir. There's a young male down. He appears to be alive but seriously injured." 

"No one else?" 

"No, sir. Your orders?" 

"Everyone stay on full alert. I want alpha team in first. Fire only if necessary. That could be our man in there. Have the medics stand by." 

"Yes, sir." 

As the agent moved away, Scully moved closer. 

"Do you think it's Mulder?" 

"We'll know soon enough. Let's pray that we've found him." 

They didn't have long to wait. The all clear signal came quickly, not a shot fired. Moving as fast as he could, Skinner entered the room to find Krycek lying half naked on the end of the bed. While Scully made a cursory exam, he took in the scene. Large red stains seeped across the spread beneath him. Bruises purpled his back and a huge bite wound gaped at his shoulder. Swelling around his throat followed the pattern of belt marks to the base of his neck. His soiled jeans had been only half pulled back up, a mix of blood and semen smearing the cloth. "Shit. Get that medical team in here." 

Still silent, Scully moved away as Skinner stepped closer. Kneeling beside the injured man, he touched his bare stump, his prosthesis nowhere around. 

"Krycek, can you hear me? What happened here? Where's Mulder?" 

The groan signaled the slow return of consciousness. A brief flutter of eyelids and Skinner found himself staring into an intense green. "Krycek, where's Mulder?" 

The young man struggled to turn over, but managed only to hiss with his own pain. Finally he whispered, "Derik. Won't kill him right away though." 

"What? Where? Where did he take him?" 

"Got to find him." The words traveled in a low hush, more swallowed than spoken. Shaking his head, Krycek's eyes closed as his face fell forward. The medical team and stretcher moved in while Skinner backed away. Scully stood near the outer wall, her hands crossed around her chest, her face an angry, grim mask. He took her by the elbow and the two of them walked back outside. 

"He said Turner won't kill Mulder right away." Pushing his hands deep into his pockets, he worked hard to keep his voice even and unbroken. 

"Why didn't you tell me Krycek was involved?" Rage heated her words to pure, accusatory flame. 

"Agent Scully, I....." 

"You should've told me, sir. You had absolutely no right to keep that from me." 

"I didn't want to worry you any more than I had to, plus I knew how you felt about the man involved in killing your sister." 

"With all due respect, screw that, sir. I need to know everything about this case if I'm supposed to help find my partner. Is that understood?" 

"Yes, Agent Scully, it is. I should have told you. I guess I wasn't thinking too clearly." 

Her voice softened at the admission. "This is hard on everybody." She took a deep and calming breath. "Okay, at least tell me why the hell Krycek's in the middle of all this." 

"It's a long story." A weary pressure weighed against his lungs. He found it almost impossible to care about the passion Scully aimed his way. 

"Well, I need to hear it. Besides, from the looks of Krycek, we may have awhile to wait before we can question him. He's got some serious injuries." 

"Turner and he used to be lovers." 

"What? Well, that figures. One psychopath screws another." 

"Scully, Krycek was just a boy when he was sold to him." 

"Sold as in really sold? How could that happen?" Holding up a hand as if to cancel the question, she added, "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know. I don't want to feel sorry for the bastard." Shaking her head, she kicked the ground in frustration. "Well, shit." 

"I know. I thought the same thing. It explains a lot." 

Scully bit her bottom lip and then crossed her arms again, her earlier slip into weakness set to stone. "It's still hard to feel sorry for a man like Krycek. You're right. It does explain why he's so twisted and fucked up now, but that still doesn't explain what he was doing with Mulder. Was he helping Turner? Or maybe he was pretending to help Mulder so he could mess with his head again? I've never understood why Mulder's so easy when it comes to Krycek." 

"Whatever plan Krycek had, it didn't keep him from being attacked, too." 

"But he's still alive and from what little we know about Turner, there has to be a reason or Krycek would be just another dead Russian. Sir, do you think Turner left him alive because he helped him get to Mulder?" 

"Maybe. I don't know." 

Pulling off his glasses, the AD rubbed the bridge of his nose. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night's sleep. The pain of worry filtered up through his fingertips as he rubbed against the bristle on his chin. He needed some kind of starting point, some way to figure out what Turner was thinking. Just the thought of trying to enter such a grotesque world sent shivers though his toughest hardass bones. The image of Mulder in such a man's hands burned his eyes past seeing. 

A few minutes later, vision more cleared, he watched as the EMT's loaded Krycek's stretcher into the ambulance. He put a strangle-hold on his own impatience and fear before he finally spoke. "Come on, Scully. The only man who can tell us anything before it's too late has to be treated before he can help us. Whether we'd rather see him rot in hell instead isn't really a viable option." 

"Damn shame, too." 

"We can't let our personal feelings influence us on this." 

"Right, sir. You just keep saying that if it makes you feel better. Right now, I've got a suspect to question. He'd damn well better not die on me either, because I plan to follow the ratbastard into hell if I have to. You with me, sir?" 

Putting his glasses back in place, Skinner nodded. "After you, Agent Scully." 

He almost felt sorry for Krycek, but not quite. If Mulder died, he'd kill the sorry son of a bitch himself, right after Turner and the smoking bastard each took one silver bullet in the head. 

* * *

Time and Place Unknown 

Mulder gulped, drowning in an airy consciousness just below the level of awareness. No longer freezing, warmth still had no meaning. He saw a layer of transparent colors, bubbles of pure light that refracted his vision into spirals within spirals turning into gossamer threads. Space twirled away, draping with gauze and lace, webs of vastness that sucked away his very essence. His reason made no sense. The swell of vacuum took him into his own darkness where he lay lost and spinning, undefined pain his only companion. 

Bones grew heavy and called to wake him. Slowly, his eyes, more foggy than clear, opened to see a muted light filtering in through thin white curtains of a bedroom somewhere unknown to him. Stiffly he tried to shift positions, but found his right hand too weighed down to lift. Turning his head slightly in the other direction he saw the IV tubing running up from his left arm. Despite that, he knew no hospitals had brass beds. 

Carefully, he repositioned himself to try to sit up only to discover that his muscles refused to work on command. The slightest movement left him totally drained, his mind wasted on attempted thought. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Fox." The voice sent a blade of terror slicing through his chest. 

_You're dead, mother fucker._

A body stepped forward and stood in his line of sight. The dangerous, purring voice sounded just like the hateful one he remembered, but the man's face sketched only a little like his brother's. The grey, peppered hair, the watery blue eyes, they were the same. The jaw, however, jutted lean with straight angles. Not an ounce of fat layered any part of that massive physique, the muscles in his arms bulging the pale blue knit of his shirt. Thin lips pulled back in a sneer and grinned down at him. 

"It's good to see that you finally decided to wake up. I wouldn't want all the medical supplies to be wasted." He lifted the casted right arm and ran a finger along the inside edge. "I can't believe you broke this. Alex said you didn't like to be restrained. Alex should have known that before he cuffed you. Don't worry, though. I punished him for his mistake. I hope you never force me to do something like that to you, Fox. I think punishment should be reserved for only truly special occasions." 

Words almost too dry to be formed sounded raspy and labored. "Why don't you just kill me?" 

"Kill you? Why would I want to kill you, Fox? My brother loved you enough to die for you. My young man Alex loves you enough to betray me. Even the Assistant Director of the FBI risks his life and his career for you. Now it's my turn to find out why." 

His blood freezing in his veins, Mulder prayed for a mere few seconds with a loaded gun and the strength to use it. Just as he started to speak, a syringe pressed a sting into his hip, taking light off to another land. Mulder faded into the empty space growing with abandon within the farthest reaches of his heart. 

* * *

1 PM Friday, Georgetown Medical Center waiting room 

"Sir, look at this list of injuries." Scully handed the medical file over to her boss. She noted the strained features as he pushed up his glasses before he focused on the words. "Are you okay, sir?" 

"I'm fine, Agent Scully. Just tired. What am I looking at here?" 

Turning her attention back to the records, she pointed at the long notations. "Anything seem familiar?" 

He read down for a few moments and then glanced back up, focusing in on dark blue eyes. "These are almost identical marks to what Mulder had, same bruising, bite, and cuts." 

"Not to mention the rape, sir." 

"So, what are you saying, Scully, that this Turner is the person who really attacked Mulder?" 

"I don't know. It just seems too strange that both Krycek and Mulder would have almost identical injuries. It could be the result of both brothers having the same psychosexual aberrations, but that doesn't happen often." 

Skinner shut the file and then started pacing again. "Even with that, what does it tell us? Nothing. We still don't know where Mulder is and they won't let us see Krycek. I've got every available agent on this man hunt and nothing's turned up." 

"I know, sir. You're doing everything you can." 

"But it's not enough. It's never enough." The tension in his face twitched in the spasm of a jaw, his eyes squinted and angry. 

"Sir, I'll ask the doctor again when we can see him." 

"No need, Agent Scully." Dr. Martin came up behind them and added, "Assistant Director Skinner, Mr. Krycek is refusing to take any pain medication until he speaks to you. He says it's urgent." 

"Let's go then." Scully started to move, but the doctor held up a hand. "No, I'm sorry. He said he'd only speak to Mr. Skinner alone." 

Gritting her teeth, she shook her head. "I don't like this, sir. I have a right to be there." 

"Don't worry, Agent Scully. As soon as I know anything, I'll be right out." 

As they walked down the hall together, Dr. Martin turned to Skinner. "I should tell you that Mr. Krycek's in serious condition. He's in a lot of pain, but he apparently has a high threshold for it. Even so, don't stay any longer than you have to." 

"You can count on that, doctor, I assure you." 

Arriving at the door, Skinner entered to find a bandaged Krycek propped up in the bed. The bruising around the neck made him cringe, an image of Mulder's injured throat playing back in his mind. "Krycek." 

"Walter." The name came out raspy and harsh. 

"Don't call me that." 

"Mulder calls you that." Despite the obvious pain, Krycek loved his mind games. 

"I don't think I have to point out to you that you're not Mulder. So, where is he?" 

Krycek hissed as he grabbed his side, but after a few moments settled back down. "I don't know for sure. Turner has him." 

"Why? What's going on? Why didn't he kill him like you said or for that matter why didn't he kill you? None of this makes any sense." The words fought hard to get past the clenched teeth. 

Krycek shook his head. "Man, you really hate me." 

"Why shouldn't I hate you after all you've done? But, that's not the issue, Krycek. Answer the fucking question." 

"I was wrong about Derik. We all had it wrong. Derik doesn't want Mulder dead. He just wants Mulder." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Skinner stepped closer to the bed, his arms braced against the rail." 

"Look, he's got this idea that if Aaron loved Mulder that he should love him, too. Aaron could never have anything without sharing." 

His face twisted with anger, Skinner practically ground the words into dust before they could be heard. "Love? The bastard raped him." 

"I know, but you have to understand that's what the Turners do. They're both pretty twisted." His own version of agony tramped across his eyes as he added, "And I know that better than even Mulder does." 

"Shit." Walter turned away, his hand to his mouth fighting his own battle with a rebellious stomach. 

"Listen, you've got to find him. Mulder's sick." 

"I know that. He's still recovering." 

"You don't understand, Skinner. He's really sick. He had a high fever when Turner got there around 3 this morning. He said something about his kidneys being damaged or something. Also, he broke his wrist." 

"Turner broke his wrist? Why?" 

Krycek shook his head, but he raised his hand to rub his scrunched forehead. "No, Mulder broke it when he went nuts trying to pull his fucking hand out of the cuffs. Nobody told me he was that bad off or I'd never have used them." 

Skinner closed his eyes and took a deep breath, control blurring the edges of his rage. "You cuffed him?" 

"I didn't know he'd react like that. I swear I wanted to protect him." 

Suddenly focusing on the slight hitch in the words, Skinner glared and locked in on Krycek's face. "Why protect him? Why are you even in this? What is Mulder to you?" 

Before he could look away, Walter saw it, the slight softening of the eyes, the too bright glance before the blinking. Shit. "You're in love with him." It wasn't a question. 

"You're as crazy as Mulder if you think that." 

"You're a fucking liar, Krycek. But it doesn't matter. I hate to admit it, but I still need your help. Tell me where he took him." 

Krycek didn't answer right away and Skinner noted the slowing of the monitor beeps, green eyes closing. He nudged Krycek and repeated the question. Groggily, the younger man mumbled, "I don't know for sure. Could be a couple of places." 

"You've got to help me here, Krycek. At least give me a place to start." 

Each faint word formed a whisper. "There are at least five places where he might have gone." 

While he took down the instructions, Walter tried to calm the gibbering idiot screaming at the back of his mind. He didn't need anyone telling him what a wild hope it was to find the man he loved. It didn't matter. He'd do anything except stop until he found him. 

* * *

Location and time unknown 

So much rain made the world soggy, a dreary landscape that painted the earth the true meaning of grey. Mulder lay on his side watching the wet spots run down the window, glinting trickles webbing the glass. Time moved in different rhythms through the day, minutes merged with hours, ran into night. He had no idea how long he'd been in the room, and he didn't care. Pain ebbed like spasms in every muscle, but he ignored it. Nothing touched him. Reality and dreams echoed the same. Nothing touched him. 

_Walter never came._

"Stephen says you haven't eaten, Fox. Why not?" The voice came from a distance. He listened to the rattling of the rain. "You have to eat. You're just being stubborn." 

Pine trees, braced with a sheen of ice and wet glitter, sparkled in the far light. At the edge of green shadow dark wings flapped and a black form settled in a branch. Seeing the tree bend with the slightest spring, Mulder imagined himself the bird. 

A rough hand pushed him on his back. "I want you to stop this shit, Fox. You're not going to play at being crazy, because, baby, I can do fucking nuts better than you can." A shake brought his vision back into the room. The heavy weight of presence filled him as he looked into the face of Derik Turner. 

"Ah, you're back. See, I knew you could do it." The hand went behind his shoulders and pulled him forward. "I want you to sit up." 

"Why?" The dry word scraped the back of his throat like a brittle nail across brick. 

Putting the pillows behind him, Turner then put his hands under each of Mulder's arms and scooted him into a prone position. "Because, my dear Fox, you're not going to lie here and just die. You're going to drink and eat and get better." 

"But why bother? I don't understand." 

_I'm fucking tired of being here. I don't even know where here is. God, what a mess._

"I told you before. I want to know what my brother and Alex see in you." 

"I don't know what you're talking about. Your brother raped me and Krycek killed my father. Somehow none of that translates to anything good." 

His throat ached from the strain of words, but he forced himself to ask. "Why don't you just kill me and be done with it?" 

_Just let it be over._

Turner brought the tray closer to the bed and handed Mulder a glass of apple juice. "I'm not going to kill you, Fox. I've got other plans. Now, drink that so I don't have to run another IV to keep you hydrated. The doctor will be back this afternoon to check on you." 

Mulder sipped at the cool drink, his forehead wrinkled with the effort of deciphering the strangeness of his situation. After half a glass, he put it back on the tray and asked, "So, if you're not going to kill me, what exactly are you going to do? 

"I told you before, Fox. I'm going to take up where my brother left off." 

Calmly, with a voice more even than he felt, Mulder whispered, "Your brother didn't leave much. Seems like a wasted effort to me." 

Intrigued by the unexpected reaction, Turner stepped closer to the bed. "You're an interesting person, Fox. I've read your file and I've watched you for two weeks before I brought you here. You're unpredictable. I like that." 

"Don't you have a life? What makes me so fucking fascinating that your asshole brother devotes himself to following me around for a life time and now you're doing the same thing? What the hell's wrong with you?" 

_I hate you, motherfucker. Do it. Get it over with it._

"If you're trying to provoke me, forget it. It won't work. You're frustrated because you hate being dependent, but just wait. When you're feeling better, I'll explain more. Right now I want you to eat and then rest. By evening, you should be able to get up for awhile. I'll bet you'd like that, to get out of this room, walk around just for a few minutes?" 

The oddly gentle cadence of the voice played on Mulder's nerves. He'd worked with psychopaths long enough to recognize the kindly benefactor approach. He decided to play along. Maybe if he lasted long enough, he could drive Turner to distraction, keep him off balance until he could find a way to either be rescued or escape or finally end it. 

A movement by the edge of the bed refocused his attention. "Fox, you want the soup or the biscuit first?" 

"Biscuit. Hand me the knife and butter and I'll fix it myself." 

Turner smiled. "I'm not stupid, Fox." He reached over and stroked the side of Mulder's slightly whiskered cheek, the flesh frozen beneath his touch. "Don't fuck with me, or pain will be your master and your servant." 

Pulling back, braced with a surge of defiance. "What? You want me to tremble, to whimper at your touch? Forget about it. You want to hurt me? Go ahead and fucking do it. You want to help me, then get out of here and let me eat in peace." 

Stepping back, Turner studied the man in the bed. "So, you're starting to get your balls back, eh? About time. So, my brother fucked your ass and now you're over it? Good, because by the time I'm done, you're going to be begging for more." 

"Begging? I fucking doubt it." He turned his head away, nonchalant and dismissive. 

Turner grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward, face to face. "You doubt it, you little prick? Want me to prove it right now? Well, do you?" 

Mulder stared back, his eyes shining with anticipation. He'd finally figured out what to do. Suddenly, Turner released him and pushed him back. 

The calculated voice sounded nothing like Mulder's. "Sure. Why not?" 

"Damn." Turner stared, his white square teeth catching the light. 

"What? Lost your interest already, or just can't get it up?" 

"You fucking want me to hurt you, to kill your ass so you don't have to keep trying to do it yourself." 

Settling back, Mulder set his jaw with a newfound determination. "Well, at least you're not dumb on top of being crazy." 

A low chuckle rumbled in the larger man's chest. "Oh, Fox, this is going to be fun." 

* * *

Tuesday 6 P.M. Georgetown Medical Center 

"What the hell do you mean he's not here? Where the fuck is he?" AD Skinner leaned into his agent's terrified face. 

Lips trembling, the young man managed little better than a squeak. "I don't know, sir." 

"I can't fucking believe this." Skinner pulled back to regain control of the rush of anger revving up his heart to dangerous speeds. After several deep breaths to calm the violence threatening to break free, he finally evened out his voice. Years as a veteran came in handy when dealing with incompetence and assholes, even if it did absolutely nothing to help lower his blood pressure. 

"Okay, tell me from the top. Exactly what happened here? Why isn't Alex Krycek where he should be?" 

Still flustered, Special Agent Dan Phillips shifted uneasily, working too hard to sound official and failing miserably. "I got a phone call. I was gone less than a minute. I swear. I called an alert right away, sir." 

"And no one found Krycek? Fucking fantastic. So, who called?" 

"There was no one on the line, sir. I'm sorry." 

"Oldest trick in the book and you fell for it. Do you have any idea what you've done?" The words seethed out of his mouth with a level of anger and contempt he'd rarely achieved. 

A small hand touched his sleeve. "Sir, Special Agent Phillips isn't the only one at fault here. Maybe we should talk about this a little later?" Before he could snap a reply, Scully turned to the young target of Skinner's misdirected rage. "Phillips, maybe this would be a good time to start typing up that report for the Assistant Director." 

"Yes, M'am. You're probably right." 

Skinner lowered the intensity of his glare slightly and grunted. "You're dismissed, Agent Phillips, but I want that report first thing in the morning. I also want a follow up on the APB out on Krycek. I want the man found. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Yes, sir." Phillips left the AD and Scully standing in the hallway outside Krycek's empty room. 

Walter ignored the fact that the woman beside him still rested a hand on his arm. The knot keeping his heart tied too tightly made his chest scream to breathe. Finally he hissed. "I'm all right." 

"Sure you are, sir. Why don't we sit down for a minute? Your color's a little off." 

"Don't start with me, Agent Scully." 

"I'm a doctor, too, if you'll remember, sir. Besides, it's not going to do Mulder any good if you die of a heart attack before you find him." 

Sinking into a nearby chair, Walter leaned forward, his energy practically non-existent. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm just tired." 

"I know that." She settled in the seat beside him. "Sir, I know you're doing everything you can, but you're only one man. You have to sleep some time." 

"I have slept, believe it or not. It's just that I keep thinking about what could be happening. We went to every one of the places Krycek told us about and there's nothing. No sign of him ever being there. We've hit a dead end, Scully. I wanted to talk to Krycek again. See if maybe there was another place he didn't give me." 

Scully nodded. "I'm sure there is. Krycek never puts the whole deck on the table. Mulder found that out the hard way often enough." 

Walter turned his gaze on the bundle of strength beside him. Sure, she looked tired, but somehow she held up. She never gave an inch into the creeping despair that fouled and muddied his own thoughts. God, he'd give his own soul if he could find Mulder and hold him, make him safe just once. 

He forced himself to refocus, working harder to think like an Assistant Director of the FBI and not some victim's desperate and ineffectual lover. 

"Scully, where do you think Krycek would go?" 

"I don't know, but he can't go far. He's still in pretty bad shape. To be honest, I'm surprised he even pulled something like this so soon." 

"I'm not. I'm surprised he waited this long. He knows every body with a gun and a working memory wants him dead. Obviously if we can't keep him in a hospital, we can't protect him either. He knew that. I should've warned Phillips about him." 

"Sir, Phillips is a trained agent. He should've already known." 

Skinner smiled for the first time in days at the disrespectful tone she used when she talked about the young man who'd let Krycek get away. "So, why'd you come to his rescue?" 

"You mean why didn't I let you chew his ass a little harder, sir?" 

Skinner laughed out loud. 

"What?" She turned to stare at the AD as though he'd lost his mind. After all the man did fall in love with her partner. He definitely qualified for edge material. 

"I don't think I've ever really seen this side of you before. No wonder Mulder smiles when he talks about you." 

A flash of sadness traced across her eyes as he watched her. "He's still alive, Walter." Her voice hitched as she tested the name for the first time. When he didn't say anything, she added, "You can't give up." 

"I don't intend to, but it's getting harder to believe we'll find him." He never said the word alive, but it dangled there between them, twitching for attention. Scully ignored it. 

"I know." She touched her hand to his. "But we just have to keep trying. The first thing to do is get you something to eat and then we'll check on the progress of finding Ratboy." 

"Ratboy?" 

"Yeah, it's Mulder's pet name for him." 

"Sounds like Mulder. I don't even want to think about what he calls me." 

She smiled before she stood up. "Oh, I don't know. Mulder's pretty clever with names. You'll have to ask him. It's really kind of cute." 

"Oh, shit, Scully, don't tease a man when he's down." 

"I'm not teasing. Besides, I'm one woman who can keep a secret." 

Skinner snorted. "Thank god for that." 

"Damn straight." 

"Not funny, Scully." Skinner managed to glare with a grin before he followed her down to the cafeteria. If he'd learned anything over the last few years, he learned that Scully usually got her way. So, he'd eat and then he'd find Ratboy. Then he'd find Mulder. He had to believe that, no matter what the jabbering maniac at the back of his mind tried to say. 

* * *

Wednesday Midnight, Mulder's Apartment 

The key slid into the lock with a clean click and the door opened onto a darkness. The faint illumination of the fish tank wavered from the far wall like a taunting apparition. Walter slammed the door shut behind him and walked over to pick up the box of fish food sitting above the aquarium. Sprinkling the flakes between his two fingers, he flashed back on the memory of watching Mulder stand there doing the same thing every morning he'd been with him. Suddenly despite his exhaustion, dead fish were not an option. The damn things simply had to stay alive. 

"Turn around slowly and raise your hands where I can see them." The voice came from behind him. He swiveled and focused in on the man he'd been searching for all night. In the low light the empty left sleeve gave Krycek a lop-sided appearance. Regardless, the gun had dead aim at his heart. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I figured this is the one place people wouldn't look. I also figured you be coming here eventually." 

"We searched all the places you gave us, but he wasn't there. Where else could he be?" 

"Sit down over there. I have to think." He motioned for the couch and Walter did as commanded, keeping a close eye on the slow, deliberate movements of his captor. 

"You don't look so good, Krycek. Maybe you should've stayed put." 

"And maybe you should just shut up and listen. If you haven't found him in any of those places, there's only one other place he could be." 

A sudden groan took them both by surprise as Krycek doubled over. Springing forward, Walter snatched up the gun and then turned it on his attacker. He easily pushed him into a chair and had no problem keeping him there. Pain worked in his favor. 

"Damn." A slow shudder passed through Krycek's body before he finally settled back, sweat glistening against pale skin. 

"You should be in the hospital." He hated the poor bastard, but he had no desire to see him suffer. 

"Yeah, maybe, but that's not going to do Mulder any good. Look, I'm not in very good shape here. I think we both know that. Even so, you need me free and willing to help." 

"You were about to tell me where to find Mulder." 

"There's only one other place he'd take him if he's still in the country." 

"Where is it, Krycek.? Stop stalling." 

Shaking his head, Krycek reached up and rubbed his temple. "You've got to understand. The place is a fortress. You're not going to be able to take a regular rescue team in there without getting him and a lot of other people killed." 

Sitting down across from the younger man, Walter still held the gun level at his gut. "So, what are you suggesting?" 

"I made a few calls. I know Derik's there right now. It's a place in the middle of Georgia. Very isolated, very secure. He's got his own security, and I'm here to tell you, it's a bitch. No way can you get in there on your own. I'll have to take you there." 

"Krycek, you're crazy. You can't even stand. How are you going to break into a place like that? Hell, how am I supposed to?" 

"That's the thing. Sure, it's a tough place, but I've been there. I know the place. Besides, I know this guy on the inside who has a crush." 

"Shit, Krycek. Don't tell me about your love life." 

Green eyes turned deadly, focused heat aimed directly at an enemy. "Don't fuck with me, Skinner. If it weren't for Mulder, I could give a fuck if you survive. The thing is he needs you right now. He may not know it, but he does." 

Chilled by the stare of a stone cold killer, Walter still had to ask, "Why are you doing this, Krycek?" 

He locked angry eyes with Skinner while he spoke. "You think you know, but you don't. My feelings for Mulder are my own. They've got nothing to do with you or anyone else. It doesn't fucking matter why I'm doing this. Just take advantage of it and save his ass before Derik kills him." 

A mental fist jabbed at Walter's stomach. "I thought you said Turner didn't want to kill him." 

In a tone almost too low and hushed to measure, Krycek whispered, "There's more than one kind of dead." 

The wash of cold truth froze muscle to bone, his thoughts against frigid space. "When do we leave?" 

* * *

4 PM Wednesday, Georgia Estate 

"Get up and put them on." The soldier pointed to the sweats at the end of the bed. Close-cropped, dark hair along with the well muscled torso shouted for the cover of mercenary of the month. 

_Lovely little Nazi._

"Why?" Mulder lay there staring, his arms IV free for the first time since he arrived. 

_Wonder if the bullet would sting all the way to the brain?_

"Get the fuck up and get dressed or I'll do it for you. Then again, maybe that's what you want." A slight smirk curled the edges of too thin lips while dark blue eyes sparkled with challenge. 

"Thanks for the offer, but I'd hate you to start something too hard to finish." He took satisfaction as the finger tightened on the trigger. Taunting could be an art form if well-handled. 

"Stop being a prick and get dressed. Turner wants to see you." 

Carefully he shifted his legs to the side of the bed. The slight dizziness from changing positions forced him to grip the side rail for a moment, his eyes shut to ward off the nausea. More settled, he took off the gown and brought the dark grey fleece down over his head, the right arm band tight over the cast. Reaching for the pants, he looked around. "What? No underwear?" 

_Shit. Not good._

"You're not going to need it. Put the pants on. And the socks." 

"No shoes?" 

"You're not going outside. Now, stop asking questions and hurry up." 

Bracing himself to fight down the rising panic of standing bare-bottomed in front of a too familiar hungry stare, he stood up and pulled the elastic waist up quickly to cover his nakedness. Sitting back down, he took the new pair of socks and put them on. His right wrist ached from the effort and he brought it back up to his chest. Just the mere act of dressing draped him in fatigue. "Now, what?" 

"Stand up and let's go." 

Motioning for the door, Mulder did as directed and found himself in a hallway carpeted in a lush navy. The light tan walls with white woodwork trim led him to the stairs. From the top landing he gazed down on an unexpected opulence. The place looked like something out of one of those waiting room magazines--lots of expensive furniture, matching blue and white fabrics against terra cotta tile. Stained glass windows paraded light through an image of a snarling tiger standing behind a jungle tree, a terrified green- eyed boy fallen just within paw's reach. 

_Damn, it looks like Krycek._

"Where the fuck is this place?" 

"Move it." The gruff voice ordered impatiently behind him. 

"Okay. But where am I going?" He never expected an answer, so the silence didn't surprise him. Mulder took in as many details as he could for future reference. A mental map might come in handy if he actually got a chance to survive and escape the place. 

"Stop and turn here." Going down a corridor off the main great room, he passed a double doorway that obviously led to a gym, the gleam of metal weights and machines flashing against bright light. Moving further along, he stopped at the closed door at the end of the hall. A guard opened it for him and he stepped into what appeared to be a study combined with a game room. Derik Turner leaned over a pool table lining up his next shot. 

"Come in, Fox. I'm glad to see you've got a little color back. Have a seat." 

Mulder continued to stand as Turner proceeded to sink the seven ball in the corner pocket. He turned and aimed an amused grin at the stubborn agent. "I said sit down, Fox. You don't mind very well, do you." 

"I don't want to sit down. I don't want to be here." 

_Asshole. Make me sit. Go ahead._

Turner's smile twisted harder, his eyes narrowed to a steady focus. "I don't give a fuck what you want, Fox. You're going to have to learn that." 

"I tend to be a slow learner." 

_Slow to dead at this point._

"That's not what I've heard. Doesn't matter though. I always get what I want eventually. Now, you can either do it easy or hard. Makes no difference. Seems to me though that you should really avoid making an issue over the small stuff like sitting down when I tell you to." 

"Why's that?" 

"Because you're going to be really worn out by the small stuff before we get to the really interesting details of the relationship I'm forging." 

_Yeah, right. Relationship. Not fucking likely._

Swallowing hard, trying not to bite off his tongue in disgust, Mulder kept his voice even. "Relationship? What relationship? What kind of twisted fuck are you?" 

The snort surprised him as Turner laughed and took up a glass of brandy and sipped the last of it, licking the edges clean of the amber liquid. "You are a test, that's for sure, Fox. No wonder Aaron liked you. You remind me a lot of Alex. I like that." 

The mention of Krycek's name pinched a memory. "You've talked about him before. What is he to you?" 

_Like I can't guess what a shit like you wants with someone like Krycek's Grade A ass._

"He didn't tell you?" Turner put the pool cue down and sat on the edge of the table while he poured himself another drink. 

"He said he knew you." 

Turner laughed again. "Oh, yeah, you could say that. Alex Krycek is one of the best fucks I've ever had. Bought him when he was just a kid so I could raise him to do it right, you know." 

"Bought him?" The clenching of his gut reduced his vision. Light-headed, Mulder finally sat down. 

_Son of a bitch. Damn._

"Yeah, even trade for a job I did. Great bargain, too. Anyway, I'm not sure where I went wrong exactly. He's such a wonderful little sociopath, but I guess that's why he betrayed me in the end. No sense of loyalty. No morals really." 

"Yeah, I guess that explains it." Working hard to keep the bile out of his throat, Mulder breathed more deeply. 

"Explains what?" Watching closely Turner's amused expression shifted. "Don't feel sorry for him, Fox. He did kill your father, you know. You wouldn't believe the bruises I gave the boy over that fuck up." 

The words stumbled, but made it free from tight lips. "Why a fuck up? My father's dead." 

_Son of a bitch killed my father. I have to keep reminding myself of that. Why is that?_

"Yeah, but it wasn't sanctioned. Besides, you can't tell me it much mattered what happened to your old man. He wasn't exactly father of the year material." 

"No, but he was my father." 

_A son of a bitch, but good old dad nonetheless._

"So, even if the guy beat and raped you, it's blood that counts? I'll have to remember that." 

The heated air in the room steamed Mulder's lungs as he tried to ignore the spears stabbing at his chest. He needed to turn away from the pounding images of his father. Gulping harder, he turned the question back to Krycek. "Why does Alex hate you so much?" 

_Like I can't guess._

"He feels the same way about me as you do your father. Make no mistake, Alex and I are connected as close as blood. I know him better than anyone, but he still surprised me with this thing he has for you. Let me warn you about Alex. No matter how much he tries to fuck you, don't ever trust him." 

"Don't worry. I've never trusted him." 

_Never will unless I go fucking crazy. Shit. Could be in trouble._

"But you have wanted to fuck him." Mulder refused to answer and looked away. 

_Damn, I'm such a slut._

"I don't blame you, Fox. Alex has a great ass and nobody knows how to use that like Alex. The thing is, I fell for it a little myself. I'll admit it. I had a soft spot for the boy, but then for some reason he got this obsession going over you. Same thing happened with Aaron. I'm still trying to figure it out." 

"Don't bother. Obsessions are crazy. You, your brother, Alex, you're all sick fucks. What's to figure?" 

Rather than look offended, Turner laughed again. "Yeah, that we are. So, Fox, what's Walter Skinner's excuse? Is he a sick fuck, too?" 

Fired by a sudden surge of passion, Mulder stood up and stepped closer. "Don't. I don't ever want to hear you talk about him. He's got nothing to do with any of this." 

_Not Walter, you asshole. Ever._

Cold blue eyes narrowed their focus, icy without a single waver. "Sit down, Fox, and watch your tone." 

After a few seconds of not moving, Turner casually whipped up so quickly and cleanly, Mulder didn't have a chance to twitch much less struggle. The hard bulk of the body moved him with almost no effort back into the chair with a massive force. His head spun from the impact. "Fuck." 

"Not yet, but next time I tell you, Fox, do it. I don't want to hurt you. You're still not well yet. But don't press me on this. I will cause you a great deal of pain if you make me." 

"I don't give a fuck what you do to me. Just leave Skinner out of this." 

"Skinner's in it whether you like it or not, Fox." Turner came back around and settled in a chair across from Mulder's. "You don't know what's been going on since I brought you here, so let me fill you in. Your boss has been pissing people off like crazy trying to find you. He must have it pretty bad. He's called in about every marker he's got and given out a few. He'll be in debt up to his ass over this if he survives." 

_He didn't desert me. God, Walter, please get here soon._

The internal chanting echoed over and over, pounding in his head. Biting his lip to help focus, he blinked several times to help form words in the right order. 

"So, what's your point? I work for him. Of course, he's going to try to find me." 

"Cut the shit, Mulder." He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving his focus on Mulder's face. "Tell me something. Is he a good lover?" 

"We're not lovers." _I can't._

"Really? Well, it's not for the lack of trying on his part, no doubt." 

"You don't know shit, Turner." Mulder ground his back molars, the grit of his hatred scraping down to the bone. 

"I know this. He'll be coming here with Alex and when he does, he's going to be mine." 

Jerking his head up, Mulder stared into the face of stark evil. "What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"You should thank me." 

"Thank you for what?" 

"You, my dear Fox, are about to figure out what you truly believe in." 

Mulder's thinking suddenly rolled over and played dead. 

* * *

6:30 PM Wednesday, Georgia estate 

Light dashed around, playing silly games, hiding in the dark. Groaning as he tried to open his eyes, Walter Skinner decided getting old just wasn't working out. "Damn." 

"About time you woke up." Alex Krycek sat on a bunk across from his, one leg up. Illness still colored his skin a too pale white with a dash of shadow. 

"What the hell happened?" A pounding throbbed at his left temple as the older man sat up. Swinging his legs off the side of the narrow bed, he surveyed his surroundings the best he could without his glasses. The square room held only the bed, a sink, and a toilet. No window broke the straight lines all around. Only one door offered an exit. 

Rubbing the side of his face, a faint image of violence and pain teased the edge of his memory. "I asked what happened, Krycek." 

"I know you did, but I figured it was just rhetorical. You saying you really can't remember?" 

"That's what I'm saying." Walter rested his face in both hands as he tried to rub away the terrible aftermath of being unconscious. 

"We got inside the perimeter, but got stopped just outside Derik's main building. I got the stun gun, while you got the low tech club. Effective though. Took you out pretty damn quick." 

"Shit." He started to stand, but thought better of the plan when a whirling sensation said hello to his stomach. 

"Man, try not to get sick. This is a closed space." 

"Not as closed as a coffin." 

"True. Jesus, you're as pissy as Mulder when you get pounded." 

Walter risked trying to open his eyes again and saw that Krycek sat calmly watching him from the other bed. The intense scrutiny not only made him nervous, but ticked him off royally. The boy was too damn cool and cocky to be real. 

"I'm going to define pissy if you don't tell me how the hell this happened. I thought you had this place scoped out. What happened to the guy with the crush?" 

"Well, apparently he's a bit more fickle than I expected. Either that or Derik got jealous and killed him. Could be either one. Poor Luther's nowhere to be found. Doesn't matter. We're dead now any way." 

"You're awfully fucking calm about the whole thing. Why shouldn't I believe you had this planned?" Suspicion and frustration fired the rage growing in his gut. 

"Sure, Skinner. That makes a hell of a lot of sense. In case you haven't noticed, you're not in this room alone. I hate to break it to you, old man, but Derik Turner knows how to handle a grudge. Believe me, if I'd planned this, I would've shot myself in the head to save myself the grief." The bitterness behind the words worked like venom, poisoning the air in the room, an open wound oozing hatred. 

"So, why hasn't he killed us both already?" 

Letting his head fall back against the wall, Krycek closed his eyes. "Derik likes drama. He's got a play ready and we've got starring roles." Raising up, he focused on his bruised companion. "Frankly, I pity you when Mulder shows up." 

"Why's that?" 

"Think about it. Derik and Aaron always like to bargain for what they want." 

A terrible cold crawled its way up through Walter's gut as the earlier fear awakened and coiled, fully alert. "What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"Aaron used Scully against Mulder. Derik used Mulder against me. Now prove you're an AD for a reason. Figure out who the player is in the next show." 

"Son of a bitch." 

"Good job, Walter. Named yourself in one." 

* * *

8PM Wednesday, Georgia estate 

The key in the lock signaled arrival. Walter thought seriously about trying to jump the entering guard, but the automatic in his hand vetoed the plan. 

"So, Alex, back again for a visit?" The young man stood by the bed pointing the gun at Krycek, but smiled with familiarity as he spoke. 

"Hey, Thomas. I thought you'd left a long time ago. Last I heard you were working out of Cairo." 

"Yeah, well, you're a little behind the times, old buddy. Stephen and I have already been there and back. Say all you want to about the boss, but he pays better than most." 

Krycek nodded and spoke in a friendly tone. "Yeah, well, depends on what services you're providing, Thomas. Guns and muscle get a good rate, but lay your ass out and it's a different story." 

"You should know better than most. Too bad about Luther." 

The grin faded, replaced by a forced thin smile. "What happened? Derik find out I was coming down here and have him killed?" 

"Eventually." Shifting uneasily, he avoided Krycek's eyes momentarily before he added, his voice almost sympathetic. "You know how Derik is. He isn't quick unless it suits him." 

"Yeah." Krycek leaned forward as painful spasms shook through his arm. "So, you here just to catch up on old times or what?" 

"No, the boss wants to see to it that you get cleaned up. Besides, he wants Big Daddy there to have a little visitor." 

Both Krycek and Skinner came alert. Walter spoke for the first time since the young man entered. "Is Mulder here?" 

"If Mulder's that tall drink of darkness he's been taking care of upstairs, yeah, he's here." 

Anxious, Krycek asked, "How is he? He still sick?" 

"He's better than he was. Still looks pretty out of it. I think Derik's giving him something, but I'm not sure. Seems wasted every time I've seen him. Though I have to say, even wasted, I can tell why Derik is working so damn hard to get him healthy, if you know what I mean. Fine bone structure." 

"Yeah, that must be it, Thomas. Bone structure my ass." Krycek threw a glance at Skinner before the next question. "So, why is Mulder coming in here to see this guy?" 

"Alex, if I knew what was really going on, do you think I'd be stupid enough to tell you? I mean, all I have to do is think about Luther and I'm seriously going to stay on Derik's good side. You, on the other hand, have really pissed him off. I think if I were you, I'd puff up those gorgeous lips of yours and get ready to kiss some serious Turner ass. Derik is not happy with you." 

"He say that?" 

"Didn't have to. Now, get up and let's go." He motioned with the gun as Krycek stood slowly. "And Alex, please don't make me shoot you. You've lost one arm already." 

Point taken, Krycek's eyes narrowed. He turned briefly to Skinner before leaving. "Remember what I said about the life in showbiz." 

"I'll remember." Skinner cringed as he watched the younger man limp out of the room. As much as he wanted to see Mulder, he dreaded the idea that whatever happened between them would no doubt be on tape, no doubt to be used against Mulder later. His gut ached like he'd been punched out by an army, but none of it compared to the torture that twisted the confusion in his head about what to do. At that moment all he desired in his life could be summed in the salvation of finding the man he loved and being allowed to bring him to safety. Fuck Derik Turner. He refused to fail at doing the one thing that mattered more than breathing. 

For a brief moment he bowed his head and called on all the X-Files he'd ever read dealing with the power of prayer. Never a man of strong religious conviction, he decided any sudden faith in a higher life force couldn't hurt. Then he prayed to whatever angel might be listening that Scully checked her email more often than Mulder ever did. God and hope never seemed so far away. 

* * *

8:30 Wednesday, Georgia estate 

"Go on, Mulder. Open the door. You've got 10 minutes. Make good use of it. Might be the last chance you get to see the guy before Derik either puts him out his misery or adds a little something to it." 

Ignoring the taunt, Mulder went through the entry to find Walter sitting on the low bed against the far wall, head down, eyes closed. "Hey, Walter. Did I come at a bad time?" 

Jerking up at the sound, Walter Skinner set eyes on the one man he counted as a blessing. "Thank God, you're alive." 

"Yeah, well, maybe not for long, but every minute counts around here." The door closed and clicked as the key turned behind him. "What the hell happened? What are you doing here in the middle of wherever here is?" 

"It's Georgia, and Krycek brought me." Moving closer, the older man stood only inches away. Putting a hand on Mulder's cheek, he touched a thumb to trembling lips. "I'm so really glad you're okay." 

"I can't believe you trusted, Krycek, Walter." Breathing deeper, Mulder leaned in close, slipping his arms around the man who anchored his dreams. "I thought you were smarter than that." His head rested on a broad shoulder as Walter returned the embrace. 

He whispered in Mulder's ear. "We're on camera, Mulder." 

"I don't give a fuck, Walter. We're a very photogenic couple." 

Smiling at the nonchalance, the older man relaxed into the hug. "I've missed you. How are you really?" 

"Better. Really." Pulling back, Mulder took Walter's hand and led him to the bed. Seated, he turned to face his fear. "I had it all figured out, Walter." 

"What?" 

"The whole thing. I wanted to die and knew exactly how it would happen." 

"Mulder." Alarmed, Walter pulled away, unable to take in the possibility of the man he loved falling into such an absolute despair and talking about it like any old field report. 

"No, wait, let me finish." Intertwining his fingers with Walter's, he spoke quietly, his words very deliberate. "I had it all planned. I would piss Turner off so much, he could do it for me. It was a safe place to be, Walter. No pressure to survive, you know." 

Cupping the back of his young man's head, Walter drew him closer. He lightly kissed his forehead before resting head to head. His warm breath tickled whiskered skin. "I know, Mulder." 

Pulling back, Mulder gazed intently into dark brown eyes searching for the truth. "Do you really, Walter?" 

"Yeah, I do, Mulder. It's hard to keep going when you feel so totally empty. I felt it after Nam. I got lucky. I found Sharon. She's what I needed at the time, someone who could know me and love me anyway." 

"But then you lost her." The sadness laced his words as he imagined the pain of such a failure. 

"But by then you were in my life. Hell, let's be honest, Mulder. You were there from the first time I met you. I think she knew that. It's what finally pushed her away. I feel a little guilty about that now. I can hide my feelings from most people, but not from those who care." 

Rubbing Walter's bearded jaw, Mulder smiled. "Yeah, well, you're not that easy to read, but thank god I finally figured it out. I've been running so fucking long, not just from you, but from myself. I never wanted to deal with any of it. Losing Samantha, my father, the X-Files all of it screwed up my life and did nothing to make it better. Then Turner happened. I wanted to die, Walter. I really did. It was like that one extra shove too near the cliff edge, you know? That one extra thing too much to push me over. You and Scully were the only ones keeping me alive." 

Kissing the palm so near his face, Walter shook his head. "You kept yourself alive. You underestimate your own strength, Mulder. Always have." 

"Maybe, but I was going to end it, Walter. Up until a few hours ago, I was more than willing to let Derik Turner do whatever he wanted as long as he killed me in the end. Actually I was kind of aiming to get him to off me sooner, but he didn't cooperate, lousy son of a bitch." 

"God, Mulder." Shaking his head, Walter brought the younger man closer, holding him, letting his head rest against his chest. Gently he stroked and petted, while he whispered. "I love you too much to think you'd want that." 

"I didn't want it, Walter. It just seemed like the only way to get through with all this shit. But then he told me Alex was bringing you here. I knew I couldn't let anything happen to you." 

Pulling back suddenly, Walter asked seriously. "When did he tell you about Krycek and me?" 

"I'm not sure. Just a few hours ago. Tell me what happened. How did you get here. How could you trust Krycek after everything that's happened? And where the hell is Scully?" 

"I couldn't risk bringing her along." 

"You ditched Scully? Oh, man, Walter, you're in a hell of a lot of trouble here." He smiled at the image of his partner storming around when she found out that ditching ran in his family. 

"I know. She's going to kick my ass when she sees me." 

"Yeah, Scully can do that all right, tiny feet notwithstanding. 

His face turned more serious as he asked, "But why trust Krycek?" 

"I never said I trusted him, but I didn't have a choice about listening to him either. We looked everywhere. Finally, after Krycek escaped from the hospital, he told me about this place." 

"Hospital? What hospital?" 

Walter studied Mulder's confused features before he continued to speak evenly, but quietly. "Mulder, Turner raped Krycek before he kidnapped you last week. He did the same thing to him that his brother did to you." 

"What?" Mulder stood up, pacing in a quick panic. "No, that didn't happen. I was there. I didn't see anything like that." 

"Yes, but you were sick, Mulder. According to Krycek you didn't know what was happening. You had a fever." Reaching out, he touched the cast on Mulder's right arm. "And he said you broke your own wrist." 

Holding up the plaster-encased limb like some strange object, Mulder frowned and nodded. "Yeah, I did do that. Went a little nuts when I woke up and he'd cuffed me." 

"Woke up? What do you mean woke up? Did the son of a bitch knock you out? Is that why you were with him?" 

"Calm down, Walter. It wasn't like that." Mulder watched as the older man's anger flushed his features. 

"Then how was it?" 

"I'd just come from Dr. Harris after a slight mental breakdown." 

"About what?" 

"Doesn't matter right now, but at the time I just freaked, so I went out drinking." Holding up a hand to stop the interruption he saw coming, he continued. "I know, I know, Walter. Don't say it. It was stupid. Anyway, Krycek found me and got me out of there." 

"But why was he there in the first place?" A flare of jealousy laced the words. 

"He said he was there to warn me, but you never know about Alex." 

"Stop calling him Alex. I'd rather you call him Krycek or Ratboy." 

Laughing out loud for the first time in a month, Mulder sat back down and drew the larger man's face toward him. "Walter, are you jealous?" 

"Of course not. I just don't like you being so familiar with a prick like that. He can't be trusted. I don't care how pretty he is or how bad his life's been." 

"You think Alex is pretty?" 

"I don't want to talk about Krycek, Mulder." 

"Jealous. Damn." Mulder leaned back in amusement. "I never would've figured it, Walter." Stopping for a moment, he tilted his head, his mind clicking off revelations. "Ratboy? You've been talking to Scully. Did she mention what I call you?" 

"No. She said I'd have to ask you." 

Mulder leaned in, wrapped his long fingers around Walter's neck, and kissed his cheek. Affectionately, he licked his ear before he whispered, "When we get out of here, I'll tell you. Right now, we need to figure out how we're going to do that. Any ideas to share now that I no longer want to have Turner send my ass to hell?" 

He backed away abruptly, still worried about the younger man's casual reference to his own calculated demise. "God, Mulder, you scare me when you talk like that." 

"Talk like what? I just said I want to keep on living for a change. What's wrong with that?" 

Shaking his head, Walter stood and put his hands on his hips. "We'll talk about what's wrong with you later, Mulder. Right now we need to figure out what to do. I saw the perimeter of the place, but got taken out before reaching the main building. I don't know the set up." 

"Where are we exactly?" 

"About forty-five minutes south of Atlanta. Used to be a swamp area. Now, it's this fortress. There are at least ten armed guards, outside. And there's something else." 

"What?" 

"I think they all know Krycek." 

"Yeah? That's not really surprising. Krycek and Turner have a hell of a history." 

"Hell being the operative word, Mulder. 

"Yeah, it's pretty grim, but Krycek should know this place like he owns it. Given the right circumstances, he might even be able to take over the place." 

"Maybe. But right now, he has his own problems. Turner sent for him about half an hour ago. He still wasn't recovered from the attack last week. I don't think we should count on much help from Krycek from here on out." 

Mulder shook his head, his voice steady. "Don't bet on it, Walter. Krycek's got a lot of room up his sleeve for dirty tricks. I wouldn't count him out just yet." 

* * *

From another room Krycek sat back, scooting away from the monitor as he adjusted his prosthetic arm back in its rightful position. "Smart boy, Mulder." 

Graceful fingers teased the nape of his neck playing with his dark, silky hair. "I don't get it, Alex. What's so special about this guy? Why go to all this trouble?" Thomas leaned over and kissed the side of his exposed throat. 

"None of your fucking business." Moaning, he urged Thomas closer. "Stick to what you're good at. God, that feels great." 

Leaning his head back further, Alex wallowed in the sensation of tongue and lips awakening his skin. His breathed more raggedly as he lost himself to pleasure for a few heart beats. Watching Mulder and Skinner together heated his passion. Seeing Mulder touch another man with so obvious affection burned at his soul. He wanted to be that man so badly that he gladly used another's mouth in a make believe passion. Pretending came easy with so much practice. 

"Alex?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Are you serious about taking out Derik?" Hunger nibbled at his ear while a hand busied itself moving down his chest to reach and massage the growing bulge through the rough seam of his jeans. 

A vise clamped down on the Thomas's arm as Alex opened his eyes and pulled the young soldier around the chair to come forward. Staring directly into hazel eyes, he smiled while he pushed him to kneel between his thighs. "It's about time somebody did, don't you think?" 

"Oh, yeah, man, definitely." 

"Not long from now, we'll all be free, lover. I promise." 

Nodding, anticipation and lust playing across his dark features, Thomas quickly unzipped and released the jutting cock to twitch a few inches from his mouth. Alex shook as he watched those wonderful lips slide forward, engulfing him in a steamy heat. Closing his eyes, he imagined Mulder there sucking and lapping, stroking and fondling his balls with practiced fingers. Heart racing, breathing ragged, he bucked up over and over, fucking Mulder's face, releasing his pain into the waiting throat of a surrogate, a substitute for the man he needed to save to save himself. 

* * *

9 PM Wednesday, Georgia Estate 

"Time's up, Mulder. The boss wants to see you." The gun pointed at Mulder's midsection, as the young Nazi guard motioned him to the door. 

"And if I refuse to go?" The young man stayed seated on the bed next to Walter Skinner. 

"Then your old man's going to need some new blood. Turner told me I could shoot him any place where it wouldn't kill him right away. You choose, Mulder. Makes no difference to me." He grinned as he watched the reluctant rise of his prisoner. "Good choice." 

"Walter, I'm sorry." 

Holding his hand a little longer, Walter shook his head. "It's not your fault, Mulder. You know what he's up to. Don't bargain." 

"Yeah, right. I'm going to let him rape you to save myself? I see that happening about as much as I see you and Alex going together. Not fucking likely Walter." 

Smiling grimly, the older man shook his head. "I told you not to call him that. You never listen." 

"Sure I do, Walter. I just don't mind worth a damn." 

"Listen, I don't have time for this shit, Mulder. Get your ass over here before I shoot your lover between his legs." 

"Asshole." 

Stepping closer, his gun still pointed at Walter, young Nazi stared directly at Mulder while he spoke. The words hissed with spit, each one sharp and pointed. "If Derik didn't want your ass, you'd be dead now, motherfucker. Doesn't mean, I can't hurt this one as much as I want. Go ahead and give me something fun to do." 

Mulder bit his tongue and held his fists down to his sides, the anger seething like exploding bullets through his guts. "Don't hurt him." 

"That's up to the boss and to you. Now, move it out of here. No more sweet talk." 

Glancing one more time at the bed, Mulder smiled briefly. "I'll be back, Walter. I swear." 

"Stranger things have happened, Mulder." 

"I hear that." 

* * *

9PM Wednesday, another part of the estate 

"Alex. Nice to see you again. Feeling rested I hope?" Derik Turner shot the cue ball to rebound and hit the six to the corner. 

"Nice shot." Krycek sat on the edge of the huge mahogany desk, one leg swinging. "Haven't lost your edge with the stick, I see." 

Grabbing his own crotch obscenely, Turner leered at the young man watching him. "Practice, Alex. As you well know. You're looking a lot better than when I saw you last week. Feeling up to another round so soon?" 

Gut clenched, every nerve screaming for attention, Krycek ordered his body to remain still. Keeping his voice steady, he smiled. "I'm fine, Derik. It's not like you haven't been rough before." 

"True, but you've got the staying power of an angel, Alex. Of course, Luther can't say the same." 

"You didn't have to kill him, Derik. We both know he was harmless." 

"Harmless? Not hardly. Do you know what that fag tried to do?" 

Krycek snorted at the term. "Fag? Cute, Derik, considering. Anyway, I'm not here to talk about Luther. He made his choice and lost. I'm here to talk about Mulder. You know I can't let you hurt him." 

Turner put the cue stick down and picked up the snifter from the table. Drinking deeply, he waited and then spoke carefully. "You planning on trying to stop me, Alex?" 

"You're going to stop yourself." 

Confused, Turner stepped closer, his light blue eyes bright with questions. "How's that?" 

"Aaron loved him. Mulder's all he talked about from the time I was a little boy." 

"Is that why you became obsessed, too? You and Aaron always discussing him and watching and listening to the tapes. You were as in love with him as Aaron." The accusation sounded close to pain. 

"And so it's jealousy that forces your hand now? Don't be a fool, Derik. You know the Consortium is not going to let you keep him. Aaron paid for stepping over the line." 

Tossing the glass to shatter against the wall, Turner stormed and paced across the room. "And I killed the men responsible." 

"Sure, some of them, but we both know that doesn't end it. They've sent me with a message. Hurt Mulder or Skinner and you're dead, Derik. No more support, no more connections. You know they can do it. You'd never be able to work again outside the network. Oh, you could try for awhile, but without they're support, your organization will crumble." 

"And you'd help them against me? 

"In a heartbeat." 

"You were always such an ungrateful little cocksucker." 

Smiling a taunt, Krycek spoke in a hush. "Aaron never thought so." 

Staring at the young man incredulous, Turner put his hands on his hips, his mouth tightly shut. His jaw twitched from the anger. "But you're here because of Mulder." 

"He's only one reason, Derik. We both know your time is near ending. You've lost sight of the Project. Neither of us will ever be free from that. Sure, we can have our little side projects, but the main objective remains the same. Mulder has to survive." 

"So I've heard too many times." Shaking his head, rubbing his whiskered jaw, Turner spoke, his words distant and distracted. "I've never understood that." 

"You don't have to understand. Resist or serve, Derik. You know the drill." 

An explosion of sound and color powered through the room as the bullet tore through Turner's midsection. Looking up, as if seeing the young man for the first time, Turner's face paled with awareness. Falling to his knees, he struggled with only one word. "Alex." 

Stepping forward, Krycek placed the barrel of the gun next to the temple of the man he'd called both father and lover. "It ends here, Derik. Your part is over, motherfucker." Pulling the trigger just as the older man gripped his leg, Alex faltered at the recoil. Blood splattered across the world as he stepped back watching as the last of any life faded quickly. The tang of copper mixed with the stench of powder-burned flesh choked and gagged him only momentarily. Standing straight, one less chain to bind him, he waited for the rush of soldiers as they came to meet the new boss. Revenge made for a sweet music in his head, the red and black images of celebration and death prancing like dancers just starting the first steps to a very long, very ancient tune. 

* * *

"What the fuck is this, Alex?" The young Nazi guard entered the room on a the run with Mulder beside him, other soldiers just outside the door. 

"Come on in, Stephen. Sorry for the mess. Just one of those things that happens." 

"Jesus, Alex. Why the hell did you kill Derik for christsakes?" The young man lowered his weapon and kneeled beside the dead leader, loss strangling his words. 

"Shit. Don't get all sentimental, Stephen. Besides, I think Thomas will be happy for one less name on his list of competition." 

"Like that slut has room to talk. Man, I can't believe you did this. What the hell are we supposed to do now?" Waving the gun toward the shocked Mulder, he asked, "And what about this guy? He and his buddy aren't just tourists, you know. They've seen our faces." 

"Don't worry, Stephen." His voice soothing, Krycek pointed toward the gun. "Put that away. You won't need it. I just put out the word that there's a slight change in management. I want you to round up the others and let them know that nothing's changed with the project. I'll take charge and make sure everyone's handled and paid well enough. As for Mulder and Skinner, they're my business. There's a FBI Rescue Force on its way here, so we're kind of on a tight schedule." 

Standing, trying to handle the anxious confusion, the young man faced Krycek. "Okay, but Alex, how are you going to get out of this? I mean, I could give a rat's ass in the long run about Derik, but he has other people who aren't going to like this one bit. They'll come after you." 

"They'll try, but they'll end up the same as Derik. I'm not single anymore. Spread the word, Stephen. Don't fuck with me, okay?" 

"Hell, we already knew that, Alex." Nodding, finally calming down from the shock, Stephen turned to leave. "You want me to leave him?" 

"Sure, now go. Do what I told you. And tell Nathan to get the chopper ready. I'll be out in about five minutes." 

"You got it." Running out past Mulder, Stephen directed the other armed men who'd collected behind him to follow. 

Turning to Mulder, Alex tilted his head and smiled at the expression of utter surprise he saw there. "Jesus, Mulder, I don't think I've seen you speechless since you passed out. I'll have to shoot an asshole more often." 

"Damn, Alex. What the hell happened?" 

"That's Krycek to you, Mulder." 

"What? Alex, there's a dead man lying on the carpet, the FBI are on the way, and you're worried about what I'm calling you?" 

"Well, it's better than Ratboy." 

"Shit. You were listening. You had no right to do that. Jesus, you're such a prick." Mulder stomped over to stand beside the corpse of his tormentor. He fought down the incredible urge to kick it and grind the already mutilated face into tinier bits of bone and tissue. 

"Mulder, listen. I don't have much time before Scully and the other's get here." 

Turning, he focused on the urgency in the tone and the intensity of the stare. "What?" 

"You're being watched all the time, so be careful. They know about you and Skinner, but don't worry, they won't out you. They think you're nuts to fall for the boss. It works for them to have you crazy." 

"Crazy? Damn it, Krycek, who are they and what do they want from me?" Stepping closer, he leaned in, still angry. "Tell me. I have a right to know." 

"It won't help to know, Mulder. Not yet anyway. All I can tell you is don't do the job for them. Don't go crazy and let them off the hook. Track their asses down and win. Skinner can help. So can Scully, but you've got to stop this shit with cutting yourself and wanting to die. It keeps you distracted from the real goal." 

"Which is?" 

"What it's always been, Mulder. The Project must survive. You Mulder are a big piece of that whole thing. Why the hell do you think they let you get away with all the shit you do? The thing is, the power base is changing. It's a dangerous time right now, so don't screw it up. Let Skinner help you. They think he'll keep you off balance. Stupid pricks. Let them keep thinking that. Meanwhile, do what you have to and stop hurting yourself." 

"Shit, Krycek. I don't need a fucking pep talk from someone like you." 

"Then hear this. Scully and Skinner are on the list, too. To save them, you're going to have to save yourself. Is that motivation enough to get your head out of your ass?" 

"What list? What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"X knew. So, did the man you called Deep Throat." 

"Fuck. Everybody knows but me, huh?" 

"Pretty much. Just keep at it, Mulder. It's in your head, but only you can get there." Grabbing up his gun again, Krycek moved from the desk. "The keys to Skinner's room are on the desk. I've got to go." 

As he headed for the door, Mulder called out from behind him. "Krycek, tell me. Please." 

Shaking his head, Krycek smiled as he yelled back. "Greedy, Mulder. Too fucking greedy. You'll know when you're ready. Now, go find Skinner." 

Snatching up the key, Mulder for once in life did what he was told. 

* * *

4 PM Sunday, Mulder's apartment 

"That is so not true, Walter." Mulder sat on the couch, his legs tucked under him while he chowed down on the messy end of a pepperoni pizza, cheese strings dropping onto his chin.. 

"It is true. You just don't want to admit that you still need help." Walter leaned back, wiping his mouth and rubbing his full stomach. Picking up the cold beer on the coffee table, he finished off the rest of his drink before standing to go get another one. 

"But I'm fine now. Turner's dead, my kidneys are up and running. Hell, I haven't even had a nightmare since I got back. Hell, when I get this cast off, I'll be good as new." 

Shaking his head, Walter slammed the door shut on the refrigerator. "Mulder, it's only been four days. It's taken us that long to fill out all the paper work and get you signed out of the hospital." 

Frowning, Mulder licked his greasy fingers. "Yeah, and I'd still be there if it weren't for Scully. You were no help at all on that one, I'm sorry to say." 

"I was a little busy, Mulder." Walter stood by the table, arms crossed watching contentedly while the man he loved finally ate with some kind of passion. The animation and energy made for quite a change. 

"Yeah, I know. So, what's the verdict at the top echelon at the Bureau? They think it was some kind of Russian conspiracy or what?" 

"It's still under investigation. The only thing for sure is that Derik Turner won't be running any assassination plots." 

"Thank god." Mulder reached for the last piece of pizza and stopped as heard Walter laugh. "What?" 

"You. I love watching you eat. It's a nice picture." 

"Yeah? Well, come on over and sit down. Get a close up while you're taking pot shots." 

Stepping over, Walter settled down beside the younger man, scooting in, thighs touching. "You're right. This is better." 

Snuggling up just a little, Mulder swallowed another bite before he started talking again. "Now, back to the original part of this discussion. I don't know why I can't go back to work yet." 

"Well, if nothing else, you're still on medical leave. Come on, Mulder. You were kidnapped for the second time in less than a month. No boss in his right mind would let an agent come back without more counseling. Plus, you still haven't told me about that last session you had with Harris, the one that set you off." 

"Oh, that." Mulder's cheerful visage disappeared as he leaned forward and put the last bit of crust back on the box. 

"Yeah, that, Mulder. What sent you off to the bar that day?" His voice more gentle, he whispered. "Can you talk about it yet?" Walter let him lean his back up against his chest. Wrapping his arms around him, he held the younger man in a supporting hug. 

After a few more moments of quiet, Mulder reached up and stroked the forearm around his neck. "I was just talking and it came out without me really meaning for it, too. I'd never really said it out loud before, you know. Saying to someone else like that made it real again. It just hurt too much to say it." 

"Say what, Mulder?" Walter rested his chin on the top of his dark hair, his warm breath brushing against the top strands. 

"My father used to do things he had no right to do." 

"Shit." Shaking his head not in denial, but in amazement, Walter felt the terrible stinging that forced him to close his eyes as he listened. 

"Yeah, that's my reaction, too. He used to scare me really bad. Late at night or when I got home from school sometimes when Mom was gone again. She was gone a lot right after Samantha left. Anyway, I hadn't really thought about it much until this thing with Turner. A good psychologist would use terms like repression or avoidance, but basically, I just didn't want to think about it because I couldn't change it. I mean, what was the fucking point, right?" 

"Jesus, Mulder. I'm so sorry." 

"I don't want your pity, Walter." 

"It's not pity. I hate that the son of a bitch hurt you." 

"Me, too. He was my father, but he betrayed that. Anyway, you have a right to know what you're getting into here. The whole picture. It's not pretty, but I'm working on it." 

Hugging a little tighter, Walter kissed the top of Mulder's head. "So, why don't you want to go back to Harris? You can't do this alone, Mulder. It's too much for anybody." 

"But I'm not alone now, Walter. I've got you. Plus, I think I've got a handle on it now. For the first time in a long time, I really want to get better." 

"Mulder, what if I told you, I don't have a handle on it?" 

Twisting up and out of the older man's arms, Mulder looked into sad brown eyes. "What?" 

"You heard me. I'm thinking about going to Harris myself, not to know what you tell him, but for myself." 

"But why?" 

"Because I want to be there for you, to do the right thing. This is really heavy shit, Mulder. All this, our relationship included. I don't want to say or do the wrong thing. I need some help with this myself and nothing even happened to me. I don't know how you stand it sometimes. I really don't." 

"But something did happen to you, Walter." Reaching a finger to the older man's mouth, he tenderly rubbed it along the lower lip. 

"What are you talking about?" His tongue tasted the slight hint of sauce that still laced Mulder's skin. 

"You fell in love and you've suffered because of it. I've put you through a lot." 

"Mulder, you haven't put me through anything. All those thugs like the Turners and your father did the damage. You're a survivor here. The thing is, you can't just stop the sessions with Harris, because you've still got a lot of problems because of what they did." 

"Problems? Well, yeah, we all have problems. But I'm better, even you can see that, Walter." 

"Yes, I can. But, Mulder, face it. This casual regard you have for whether you live or die scares me. The mood swings that one minute have you wanting to die and the other eating pizza and making out on the couch, that scares me absolutely shitless. The way you can care about someone else's life, but not your own, terrifies me beyond words here." 

"But you're as bad as I am. Look at what you risked to find me." Mulder gently rubbed the bruise at the side of Walter's head. 

"And I'm going to see a doctor, either Harris or someone else, because of it. If someone like me can admit that I need help dealing with all this, why can't you?" 

"More practice in denial?" Mulder smiled until he heard the sigh of frustration and saw Skinner frown. Leaning in, he settled closer, resting his head on a broad chest. "Okay, I understand what you're saying. I'll keep going if that's what you want. Harris isn't so bad. But, Walter, I need to get back to work some time." 

"You're not ready yet, Mulder." 

"I know, but soon, okay? Scully can't be expected to carry on the good fight without me indefinitely." 

"She's doing pretty damn well without either one of us, Mulder." 

"Yeah, but, she's Scully. She can do anything." 

The rumbling laugh vibrated up to Mulder's ear. "I'll tell her you said that." 

"Don't you dare. G-Woman doesn't need a bigger head." 

"G-Woman?" 

Mulder stroked the firm thigh near his hand. "That's what I call her. I call myself G-Man." His fingers massaged the stomach just above the belt. Breathing hitched and then increased. A steady heart beat got faster. 

"And what do you call me, Mulder?" 

Testing his hand a little lower, closer to the bulge growing to his complete and utter satisfaction, he smiled. "Big G." 

"Lord, Mulder." Taking a deep breath, he watched as Walter's head fell back in response to his intimate touch. Heat fired up through his own loins, numbing his brain. Thinking slowed and fogged over. His visions shifted to mere flashes of color. Opening his eyes again, he focused on the flushed features of his the man he loved. 

"You still with me, Big G?" Laughing at Walter's groan, Mulder started to unzip, but found a hand grabbing and holding his own still. 

"Mulder, are you sure about this?" 

Taking a deep breath, Mulder smiled and sat up. Very slowly, he cupped the back of Walter's head and drew him closer. "At this moment you're my only truth. I don't want to play games here. It's not going to be easy. I have a problem with trust. You know that. Half the time I don't even trust myself. But you, Walter Skinner, you I trust." Brown eyes softened as he edged in. Lips touched lips and opened to an invading tongue. Walter Skinner had no more questions, but moaned into his mouth instead. Swallowing his lover's passion, he soaked in the steamy heat, slicked against the hard edge of teeth, the smooth satin of delicate inner skin. Mulder swam in the force of this first real kiss, and rocked back momentarily. 

Reaching down, he quickly removed his own sweat pants and boxers. His erect cock glistened with the quick flow of arousal. Walter's hand gripped him and he hissed with the heat. Falling back, his legs spread, flame released the lava flow through both thighs to his groin. All the world vanished, focused instead on the center of the universe, with Walter sucking him to heaven. Every cell had one purpose, every bone melted to free form, and his brain refused to answer. Every muscle tensed tighter to painful pleasure as the lapping and nibbling continued around both cock and balls. His casted arm held down by a stronger hand, he bucked with a rhythm to match the bobbing head between his wide open thighs. His left palm rubbed the whiskered motion of a busy cheek, the jaw muscles relentless with their determined passion. Pressure rose, rolling in waves and circles, spinning to his navel, arching up with the quake of the first spasm, paralyzed in the flash of eruption. A flood of seizing pushed through his ass, squeezing his cheeks as he screamed out with the anguish of release. Red and white blasts seared all vision to settle to yellow and then blackness behind closed lids. Breathing no longer mattered. 

Some time later, when air found his lungs again, Mulder lay back dreamy, satisfied more than he thought he ever could be. Walter Skinner lay behind him, holding him tight around the middle, still nibbling at his neck. "Jesus, Walter, you're bound and determined to make me crazy here." 

"On the contrary. I'm the one who's lost his mind. I can't believe you make me so nuts." 

"Yeah? Think there's a cure?" 

Smiling as he growled into Mulder's ear. "Nope. Just a long line of treatments." 

"Treatments?" 

"One strong Mulder dose after another." 

"Oh, man." 

"You got it." 

"I certainly do, Walter." Latching onto the arms that surrounded him, Mulder floated in the comfort of contact. Suffering and misery still lurked deep inside him, but stayed put, pouting in the darkness. Lying there wrapped in the arms of his lover, he realized the true meaning of hope. It hungered to live, to grow inside him and through him, linked forever with the life force of the very man who held him, the man who loved him despite his flaws. 

Nuzzling his head harder into the broad chest, he whispered. "Hold me, Walter." 

Kissing Mulder's cheek, he spoke in a hush. "Always, Mulder. Now, close your eyes. I've got you." 

"For how long?" 

"As long as it takes." 

"Forever?" Stroking Walter's hand, Mulder closed his eyes, dreams waiting at the edge of sleep. 

"Sounds about right." Holding on with gentle strength, Walter Skinner embraced the man who held his future, bracing himself for the fight of his life. Failure was not an option. 

* * *

The End.


End file.
